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tintinn16 · 24 days ago

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Tonight you belong to me, chapter 5

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town. Time flies, in room number 2. How much longer do you have, just for the two of you?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞 see series masterlist for extensive tw.

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, Orange bedroom besties 🧡 It's been a hot minute, I sincerely apologise. Thank you to everyone who stuck around, I hope it was worth it, and thank you to everyone who just passed by 🧡 @frannyzooey my love, thank you for your help on the Americanisms, invaluable as always 🧡

Word count: 13.8k

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Chapter 5: Time in a bottle

It’s late when you pull into the parking lot. Dusk cloaks the motel in its fuzzy veil, the surroundings fading in diffuse shadows. The single-story building stands out in the twilight, akin to an old ship. Wooden poles for masts, hanging lamps swaying gently in the briny breeze, their lights blurry in the muggy air. Tacky and warm, it wafts in through your car’s open windows, dampening the exposed skin of your forearms and the back of your neck.

On the passenger seat, your iPhone’s screen glows in the semi-darkness with an incoming call.

Adrian.

“What now?” you sigh, through clenched teeth.

Your eyes dart up to Frankie’s truck parked in front of you. The word FORD stretched in chrome letters on the tailgate, shining bright in your headlights.

The familiar pull awakens between your constricted lungs. A pounding, greedy little tug compelling you to get out of your car and cover the distance to the room as quickly as your step will carry you. But you want to calm your nerves first. Slow down your heart rate, deepen your breathing.

That discussion you had with your father, earlier this afternoon, still clings to your frame. The humiliation conveyed by his carefully chosen words like tar, black and viscous. You can almost smell its foul stench. And you don’t want to bring any of it inside.

It’s only the third time Frankie gets here before you, if you count that very first Friday back in September. And the second, since you came back from Colorado earlier this month. The pressure in your rib cage eases at the memory of that sweet evening.

All day long, you had rushed through your counting routine. Through the long, icy corridors of your glass prison. Rushed on the 589 northbound. Rushed to strangle the uncertainty of his presence there.

It was a few minutes past 7pm when you parked next to his truck, his early presence cranking up your anxiousness. You got out of your car with an anguished scowl, and you all but ran toward the porch, toward the brass number 2, shoes scuffing the gravel.

The door swung open the very second you stepped under the overhang. A flash of dimple, and his arms wrapped around your waist. He scooped you up from the floor, swift and easy, carrying you inside. Hungry kisses, teeth scraping at your jaw, down the line of your neck. A throaty husk of Happy New Year, Lee Abbott, as he tugged your clothes off your body that thrummed with his scent and his voice and his arms and his taste.

With the density of him.

He lifted you again, your short, giggly yelp bouncing across the room as he hauled you over his shoulder with an easy force. His steps long and balanced, as if your weight was inconsequential to his strength.

In the dim bathroom, he put you down directly into the tub. There, he unbuckled his belt and slid down his jeans, looking at you with a mischievous grin you’d never seen before and that fitted his gorgeous face a little too well.

“Told you I’d fuck you in this shower.”

Thirty seconds later, you were standing together under an aggressive stream of scalding water, his broad back shielding you from the high pressure, steam blurring the tiles and the mirror. You pressed your face into his neck, hands splayed over his chest, feeling it heave with his low, rumbling chuckle.

“ That’s the best I could do. This place is trash,” he scoffed, lips grazing your ear.

“ It’s perfect,” you laughed.

Another notification lights up your screen, yanking you back into the stifling cab of the sedan, to the nagging cramp poking your rib cage, to your hindered breathing.

It glowers at you, bold black letters over a steel gray rectangle.

MESSAGES

Adrian

Your eyes flicker back to the red truck, your face crunching into a grimace.

“Shit,” you grit, grabbing the phone and quickly pressing the home button before you can change your mind.

The lock screen fades as the message app pops open. You squint against the brightness of the glowing white screen.

I made it, babe. I fucking made it. You’re talking to the new senior partner of Balmer & Steigt. Fuck yeah. I finally get what I fucking deserve.

The gray ellipses start blinking underneath the bubble. You frown, bracing yourself.

I couldn’t have made it without you. This is your victory as much as mine.

You scoff, but the dread-inducing ellipses keep bouncing happily. Fantastic. There’s more coming.

I got you something. Something fancy for my fancy girl.

“Oh, hell no.”

Leaning down, you pick up the roomy I ❤ NY tote bag Ava got you as a Christmas present and dump your phone into it, before stuffing the bag under your seat.

If only you could take a full breath. If only your chest would expend. It’s not that bad, really. A few months back, you would have been physically unable to keep going with your day after that conversation with your father. Let alone drive. You’d have suffocated, chocked up on your panic, until you’d been left with no choice other than to gulp down a pill, or two, or three, topped off with a swig of gin. The bitter taste of surrendering.

Is that what it means, to give oneself some grace? You’re doing good, you’re doing better, you’re doing your best.

Closing your eyes, you exhale through pursed lips and ease down your shoulders.

He had you called into his office by his secretary, as you were about to leave, bag in hand, counting steps.

But you were expecting it. In all honesty, you’re surprised it’s taken him this long. Four weeks since you came back from Beaver Creek. Four weeks of defying his strict, outdated, misogynistic dress-code.

The very first morning, you stepped out of the mirror-lined elevator on the 15th floor wearing high-waisted, wide-legged slacks and a loose button-up, the sleeves folded high on your forearms. And flat derbies.

Nervousness, sitting heavy and queasy in the pit of your stomach, beating loud against your eardrums. Prickling under your armpits, raising the hair on your nape.

Kaytee’s eyes widened as she caught sight of you walking by her office, before she remembered to police her expression. The shock on her face turned into something else, something worse. Lurking in the lift-up corner of her lips, in the smugness coloring her cheeks. Something sardonic. Condescension.

“ You can’t spend your life trying to be someone else. ” Ava’s words through the receiver the previous night were a dizzying swirl inside your head, as you walked down the glass corridors, coworkers and subordinates watching you with a similar shocked expression, that blurred their features into one subdued, frightened face.

But who the fuck am I, Ava? you wanted to ask, the only sound on the line that of your short breathing. How did you know who you were? Always. From the very beginning of your life. How did you know how to be so unapologetic about it?

Had it been your gift to her? Does self-confidence require love? Or guidance? Is it innate?

All you know, at this point in your life, is that wearing clothes that you chose for yourself seems like a sound first measure. One that you can actually undertake.

And with that in mind, you stepped into your father’s office, your heart pulsating in your throat, to take a seat across from him, his clear desk standing like a wide canyon between you.

Now, your steps are nearly silent on the shifting gravel, as you walk across the parking lot, fingers brushing along the cool metal of the truck as you pass it by. That pull toward Frankie propelling you forward, inescapable, irresistible despite the nasty sensation oozing down along your legs like thick-flowing tar, weighing your gait.

On the porch, you pause. On Friday evenings, this is when you shed your old skin. Healing wounds, scar tissues. When you set your eyes on the canopy as it swallows the sun, pink-orange dusk fading to dark. Grainy photographs, forgotten vacations. This is when your spine straightens, when you take in the horizon and let it deepen your breathing. When you ready yourself for the life you’ve chosen, between the brown carpet and the yellow curtains and his arms.

But it’s already night. The darkness has erased the horizon and your old skin won’t shed.

The door opens, a draft ruffling your hair.

The first thing you see is the crease between his brow. The tick of his whiskered jaw, and then, his dark brown eyes, appraising the tension that winds up your body, appraising your silence. His grunt, like an echo, distant.

“You sat in that car forever. I was about to come out and get you.”

The concern in his voice rattles something deep inside your belly. You’re not bringing any of it inside that room of yours, you think, as he pushes away from the door to let you in, as you cross the threshold, but it’s stuck to you. Your father’s voice. The tremendous power it still holds over you. His disappointment. Your failures, plural. All the wrong choices.

His hat is set on the desk. His suede jacket is draped over the back of the angular wooden chair. Your gaze lingers on it, you can almost feel the comforting softness of the fabric under the pads of your fingers.

He stands a few feet away from you, giving you space. Dark mahogany searching your features, your posture. His hands propped on his hips, like that other night in the parking lot, after he’d seen the fresh scar in your hairline.

You face away from him. The smell of the room is familiar, in a comforting way. Musty. Dust and the faintest perfume of industrial laundry detergent coming from the starched sheets. He’s pulled the bedspread off the bed. It’s folded neatly on the floor underneath the window. It rises tears along your throat, the idea of him prepping himself, prepping the place, alone in this room where you’ve waited for him countless times and hours. Guilt scrambles your brain, over what, you’re not entirely certain. Keeping him waiting? You failures, plural. All the wrong choices.

“Lee.”

His voice seeps in through the blackness coating your skin, like warm and persistent little droplets of sweet amber.

You turn to face him, at last. An awkward upper-body twist, feet rooted to the brown carpet, teeth clenched around the lump in your throat. He’s wearing that gray threadbare t-shirt you love, the one with a v-neck, and your eyes find the dip at the base of his throat, the fireworks of freckles between his collarbone. Tears well up, too strong to hold back, and you shut your eyes to the muffled sound of his booted steps on the matted carpet.

You’re drifting, enveloped in his warmth, his scent, leather and musk. The contact of his skin as he curls a large hand around your nape, tucking your face into the curve of his strong neck.

His arm wraps around your waist, drawing you closer, flush to his chest, and he presses his chin to your temple. You let go, surrender, honey dripping thick and golden along your loosening limbs.

His pulse beats solid and steady against your cheek. You breathe him in, a hindered inhale at first, and when your shoulders begin to drop, a deeper one. A single tear escapes. It rolls down the round of your cheek into his skin. Your palms skim up to the plane of his back, soaking in his heat, and he presses you in harder, his forearm aligning with your spine, fingers spreading at the base of your skull.

Time stretches. He holds you. You lean in.

Later, after he’s helped you climb into the cab of his truck, you keep your eyes on him as he rounds the red hood.

Sitting behind the wheel, he puts the key in the ignition and, looking at you, tilts his head to the left.

“C’mere,” he says, and you scoot next to him, biting down a relieved sigh as you slide over the seat bench.

He leans over your lap, grabbing the middle seat belt, and buckles you in, then himself. You settle in, with your head against his shoulder, and your hand on his thigh, soft cotton, worn denim. Under your touch, his firm muscles ripple as he drives you into the night, into oblivion. The steady motion lulling you to sleep.

Alongside the deserted road, trees and bushes roll out in the headlights as the truck swallows miles and miles of asphalt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble after a while, fighting drowsiness.

“Don’t be. You wanna talk about it?” he adds after a pause.

“No.”

You shake your head, your voice so low you’re not certain he’s heard your answer.

“Doesn’t have to be now,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Your head bobs with his bunching muscles as he releases the wheel to bend his arm at the elbow, fingers threading through your hair. Without lifting his eyes off the road, he leans in, and pecks a pointed kiss on the crown of your head.

Your eyes close. The image of the bedspread neatly folded underneath the window flashes through your mind. You can’t seem to get used to his tender gestures, to his attentions. You hope they will never stop. You hope you will never get used to them.

The emotion washes over you, a soft wave, and you float with it. In the cab of his truck, in his scent and his hold, you feel free of all doubts. Fear and pain cannot find you here. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced so far, a strange feeling, potent and all encompassing, albeit one that doesn’t need to be dulled or tamed.

The words come out of your mouth as a surprise.

“I think I don't want it to define me anymore. My family, I mean. Where I come from.”

This is a new state of mind. Or perhaps it’s been there for a while, a mere shadow on the wall, something you couldn’t clearly discern. Suddenly simple to comprehend and articulate.

“Yea. I get it,” he says.

And you know he does.

You open your eyes, and take in a deep breath, fill your lungs with that distinct old leather scent that clings about him, and the smell of vintage Bakelite from the dashboard, so specific to his truck.

“Music?” you ask.

“Sure, good idea. You like Jefferson Airplane?”

You nod, brushing your cheek against the cottony fabric of his t-shirt, leaving a little bit of you there, for him to find later.

“Yes. I like them.”

“Jefferson Airplane it is, then,” he answers.

Gently, he bends forward, mindful not to nudge you too much, and turns on the stereo. His thick fingers push the tape that’s already there into the slot, and your lips curl with an explicit thought, unlike any you used to have before meeting him. Crude, but welcome pictures that now constantly crowd your brain.

He keeps the volume low, and with the round rumbling of his quiet humming, your mind slowly drifts off again.

You’re about to fall asleep when a thought surfaces, skirting the edges of your consciousness.

“Frankie?” you quietly call.

“Mmh?”

“Are you… Were you in the military?”

The humming stops, his silence abrupt, and his shoulder tenses under your cheek. Pushing away from it, you risk a sleepy glance at his face, plunged in the semi-darkness. It’s not dark enough that you don’t recognize the cocking of his jaw.

“Frankie?” you ask again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“I’m a pilot,” he cuts in, pausing to inhale deeply. “I was in the Army for nearly twenty years. I got a discharge a couple years back.”

You remain silent. His eyes flicker quickly between you and the road, and you give his thigh a strong squeeze with your left hand, before resting your cheek against his shoulder, eluding his searching gaze.

Volunteers is crackling through the speakers, but you don’t hear the music. Fully awake now, your mind is reeling with those scattered, minute parts of him you picked up Friday after Friday to stash them away in your subconscious. His puzzle of shadows. All the things that now make perfect sense, and the ones you’re dying to unravel.

His quiet assertiveness. His hands, quick and sure. His silences. His commanding tone. That long, sideways scar etched on his left flank.

His early rage, and his anger too. The flight forward, dimming his eyes, where deep rich mahogany now glimmers.

The zip ties. Your eyes grow wide, a gasping sound catching in your throat. You’re not ready to address how much you appreciate this particular skill of his, considering where he picked it up.

Your imagination produces a clear vision of him in a US Air Force uniform, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders, and you bite your lip, your entire body covering in chills.

Frankie has yet to say another word. Something raises your consciousness, something in the scowl sharpening his features as he scanned your face for a reaction.

Images flash through your head. The 8 × 10 picture displayed in your father’s office in its platinum frame, for every visitor to admire. Smooth faced and confident, his sleeves rolled up high on his lean forearms, your father’s shaking hands with Reagan in front of a colorful assemblage of containers, in the industrial quarter of the Tampa Bay Harbor, during the 1984 campaign. His coldly handsome face split by a smile, larger and more genuine than any of those he ever addressed you, let alone Ava.

Recollections of those dragging hours you spent in church as a child, beads of sweat dripping along your spine as you sat in the sweltering heat on a hard wooden bench, rigid and still like a marble statue for fear of being reprimanded.

The hateful, vehement speeches your father would burst into at random, your mother pinching your arm for you to listen, this is important. The uneasy feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach, like bile, like nausea. Wrong. This is wrong. A feeling, not an idea yet. It grew with you, expending, to become impossible to see past by the time you started high.

The list of names in your father’s neat handwriting, scrawled on a crisp piece of paper, that he handed you before driving the entire family to the polls for your very first election. The sheer terror, primitive in its hold over you, prickling on your nape as you systematically disregarded his instructions, choosing the names followed by the three letters DEM.

The rare political meetings you secretly attended in college, the pamphlets in loud colors and bold letters, that you read hidden from your roommate’s prying eyes, as if they were satanic verses. Reproductive rights! Demilitarization Now! No to privatized prisons! End gun violence!

Petitions you signed with a shaking hand, because what if your parents found out? What if they heard of it? A dread so profoundly anchored at the very core of your psyche that you have never told Ava any of it, even when she would chastise your lack of interest in politics, your lack of involvement, lest she’d reveal your treason to them in the heat of an argument.

Could this be when you started finding yourself? In your diverging convictions? Could it be enough? Could it count?

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask tentatively.

He huffs a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re a hell of a fast learner, aren’t you?”

“I have a very good teacher,” you shrug, trying to ignore the sharpness in his tone.

Curiosity overthrowing your ingrained fear to displease, you ask, “What kind of aircraft do you fly? Planes? Helicopters?”

He simply nods, and your cheeks heat again at the notion, your heart racing.

“I’m very impressed,” you whisper. “I can barely parallel park.”

“I’m sure you got plenty of other skills,” he answers, softer.

“No. I really don’t.”

—

Frankie walks briskly across the parking lot, carrying a take-away bag and a six-pack of beer. His head hung low to shield his face from the thin, mid-February drizzle. His denim shirt sticks to his back with humidity, and sweat from the drive. It’s pulled uncomfortably taut across his shoulders.

He steps onto the porch, hands too full to open the door or even knock on it, so he gives it three light kicks. A tiny screw pops out from the curved top of the brass number two. The whole thing swivels upside down, swinging like a pendulum.

“Jesus christ, this fucking place,” he scoffs.

The door flies open, and you’re here, with that bright, earnest smile and your wide, luminous eyes. You’ve tied your hair up in a casual do, but you’re still fully dressed. He likes those slacks on you, snug on your curves, wide on your legs. It fits you so much better than the tight pencil skirts you used to wear when he first met you. Those made you look like an 80s porn producer fever dream. But these trousers transform your gait, your entire demeanor, into something more relaxed. More confident. He could watch you strut around the room for hours. If only there was more time.

He catches a glimpse of the mesh fabric of your bra, peeking out from the cleavage of your open shirt, and he mentally curses the corporate fucks who get to work all week around you.

“Hey, Frankie.”

The sharp, familiar pang rips through his chest at the sound of your voice, light and cheery. That ache he waits for seven excruciatingly long days to experience again.

“Hey, baby.”

As you let him in, he feels the tip of your fingers brushing his thigh, as if you need to make sure he’s here in the flesh. The miracle of you wanting him, still.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask, dragging the chipped chair away from the desk, so he can set down his bounty.

His eyes fall on your graceful nape as you crane your neck to see what’s inside the bag, too well-behaved to touch it without having been invited to do so.

“Didn’t have time to eat. I took something for you too, I hope you don’t mind. Did you eat? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t usually eat before I come here,” you admit. “I drive in straight from work,” you add, heat visibly creeping up your neck and ears.

He takes off his hat, ruffling a hand through his hair to conceal a smug smile.

“And you’re not starving, by the time I’m finished with you?”

“Quite the contrary, actually. I feel pretty full when you leave.”

Your lips stretch into a wide grin you’re ineffectively trying to hold back.

“That so?” he chuckles, propping his hands on his hips. For countenance.

Pride glimmers in your eyes, as it does every time you make him laugh. He knows it’s mirrored in his eyes. Your levity is his reward.

Everything about you is unbearably endearing. He’s not sure if he’s hungry for food anymore, or if he’s not going to go straight down on you. You’ve already prepared the bed, that ugly bedspread neatly folded under the window. He could lay you prone on your stomach, lower your trousers to your knees, perk up your pretty ass and eat your sweet cunt from behind.

His hunger for you sizzles along his spine, sparkling in his loins, imperious and distracting. The sensation is delicious, and for once, he takes the time to revel in it. He’s so used to barging in here and just taking. He doesn’t savor, not really, not until after he’s had you at least once.

He’s not proud of his unbridled hunger, the consequence of seven days’ worth of pent-up frustration, chasing your perfume on his clothes and the ghost feeling of your cool, smooth skin under his palms. That ever-growing obsession for your scent, for your eyes, and that crippling craving for the sounds you produce when he moves inside you. That high he gets when he makes you feel good. Every time he gives you what you want.

And there’s the absolute black-out on all communications between you throughout the week that drives him out of his mind. He knows that’s the tacit deal the two of you struck at the very beginning. No phone number, no address, no marks. Hell, he didn’t even know your name until you gave it to him at Christmas. Only, he’s left in the dark for seven consecutive fucking days, with no means to check up on you, and no way to make sure you’re safe.

He understands the necessity for secrecy. But the more time passes, the less it makes sense.

So come Friday night, he needs to crush you under his weight. Needs to feel your flesh gushing through his splayed fingers and hear you mewl his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your body tensing up in his hold before it shatters around his cock.

He needs to fuck you deep and full, find you in that place within yourself and wreck you there. He needs to make sure you’re alright. Make sure you’re real. Make sure you’re his.

And his control might be tenuous, but he sure loves the way you lean into it.

You’re still smiling when he takes a step closer behind you. Lowering his face into the curve of your neck, he inhales you there, that spot behind your ear, where your subtle scent becomes heady. He feels your chest rising with your own deep breathing, and he pictures your eyes fluttering shut. His hand skims the curve of your hip, sliding up to the swell of your breast over the smooth fabric of your shirt, gripping you roughly as he takes your earlobe between his lips and sucks on it. His hips move against your ass of their own volition, his cock half-hard, fucking twitching.

“Frankie,” you whine.

“Yea?”

He licks a broad stride up your neck, collecting the tangy taste of your skin, mixed with the chemical one of your perfume.

“What’s in the bag?”

“What bag, baby? Oh, right.”

It’s a beat before he can detach himself from you. His cock is beating hard and angry against the confining fabric of his jeans. With a light brush of his knuckles along your side, he reminds himself there’s also pleasure in the anticipation. The word sits in the back of his throat, like a knife ready to bleed him dry. Concupiscence.

Ripping the paper bag open in the middle, he smooths both sides neatly over the desk, and points at the three rolls wrapped in tin foil.

“Took three burritos, and some fried beans. There’s one beef, one pork, and one vegetarian, in case you don't eat meat.”

You look at him with a twinkle in your eyes, your grin getting wider than he’s ever seen it. He braces a hand flat on the desk.

“Oh, I eat meat, I thought you’d know that.”

The words have barely left your mouth that you burst into a fit of giggles, covering your face with both hands.

“Christ, woman!” he laughs. “Alright, sit down. Let’s get proper food into that mouth of yours, for once.”

Together, you unfold the bedspread and arrange it over the foot of the bed. The thing is already stained, and you mutually agree there’s no need to make a mess of the white sheet just yet.

Letting you pick between the two richer ones, he takes the vegetarian burrito, and you start eating together, two open cans of beer at your feet.

His bites are ravenous, while you nibble gingerly at your food, holding the burrito with two hands, the foil crackling between your fingers. After a few bites, however, you start eating in bigger chunks.

“This is delicious,” you moan with your mouth full.

Is he getting jealous of a fucking burrito now? Is that where he’s at?

“What, you never had a burrito in your life?”

You wince, and he immediately regrets the teasing skepticism of his tone.

Setting the food down, you dab a paper towel to the corner of your mouth, catching a fleck of sauce. There’s grace in all your movements, even the tiniest ones.

“My mother monitored everything I ate. God forbid I put on any weight,” you explain, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

He lowers his hands, eyes trained on your averted gaze.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you tell him, looking up at him.

There’s that quiet resignation painted all over your face.

“Try me.”

“You’re thinking I’m a grown woman, old enough to make her own decisions.”

He shakes his head. “Was actually thinking your mother sounds like the exact opposite of mine.”

Your mouth curves into a sad attempt at a smile.

“I don't judge you, Lee. We all do what we can with what we got dealt with.”

A slight frown knits your brow, as you seem to consider his words.

He has spent a lot of time, lately, reflecting over his own choices, and the many places where they’ve led him, for better or for worse.

Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria. Libya and the most dangerous places in sub-Saharan Africa. Nearly everywhere in South America. Twice over.

Over the fucking Andes, and to Tom’s funeral.

Choices that also made him Lua’s father.

Crossroads that have taken him all the way to that shithole bar, last year at the end of August. Conscious decisions that brought him here, into this room. Into your arms. Into your life.

A chain reaction he wouldn’t alter, he knows it now, even if he was given the chance for a do-over.

He used to consider things as definite. Choices as absolute and irrevocable. It took him becoming a father, and meeting you, to understand his mother’s words. Paso a paso, she’d say, watching him with a tender, knowing smile as he rushed toward his life. Paso a Paso, Francisco.

You eat in silence for a while, and he keeps watching you. That sharp pain solidly entrenched inside his chest, blooming through his heart, he has to make a conscious effort to breathe around it.

He bought you the food you’re eating right now. Drove to his favorite place, stood in line and placed his order with you in mind. And you’re enjoying it. In fact, you’re demonstrating an impressive appetite, hungrier, messier with every bite. Sauce dripping down your chin. Pink flashes of tongue licking it from between your fingers.

He could get used to that. Providing for you. Taking care of you. In more than just one way. Sharing the mundane routine of a daily life together.

But this is not real. Whatever is happening between the four walls of this shitty motel is not ground for life-altering choices.

“Do you want to share the pork one?” you ask, crinkling the tinfoil wrapper into a compact ball.

“I’m good, baby,” he answers with a soft smile. “You can have it. Just make sure you’re still hungry for more meat when you’re done.”

—

Adrian has gifted you a new purse from another French luxury brand. It’s a square-shaped thing cut from some grayish reptile skin, with a matching tag and a decorative lock hanging from its handle. It looks insanely expensive and ridiculously vulgar, its tackiness almost cruelly ironic. Like a rich people’s inside joke.

Somehow, you’re vaguely aware this model is exclusive and can’t be bought online or even in stores, however high-end. It has to be ordered, and there’s a waiting list. Useless knowledge you probably gathered from one of your mother’s magazines. A family of four could most likely live comfortably for a whole year for the price of this thing.

Incidentally, there’s a new perfume clinging to Adrian’s clothes when he comes home late at night. The first time you caught a whiff of the heady fragrance, intense vanilla and white musk, it reminded you of the stunning blonde with feline hazel eyes.

The gift immediately felt less like an expression of gratitude for your support than like a reward for your silent compliance. But it’s of little to no importance. The bag sits idly at the bottom of your walk-in dressing. Unused, containing what’s left of the love and respect you once harbored for the man.

Every so often, you think about it, as you cruise along the 589. It makes you smile. A wide, Cheshire cat grin, one that bares your front teeth, and you wonder if it’s cruel of you to smile about the end of something that used to mean so much. Something that meant nearly everything. You wonder if you’ve ever been cruel before. Intentionally, that is.

Then, you conclude you don’t care. This particular kind of cruelty feels far too good. Too righteous. You could get used to it.

And you keep cruising along the 589 northbound.

—

“Mark Twain or Lewis Carroll?”

“Oh god, Frankie, I don’t know…” you moan, too distracted to think straight.

Teeth ghosting a bite over your neck, he wraps a kiss around your skin, sucking on it. Not sharply enough to bruise, but enough for you to clench hard around him.

In the past few weeks, he’s become playful. It’s new to you. Was it always a part of him, constituent but buried underneath the scars and the years, or was it born from your touch?

He’s become talkative, too. Talkative, and curious. But then again, perhaps he always was. Only, not with you.

Thus, there are new rituals between you. Secrets exchanged behind the shielding partition of the yellow curtains. Murmurs shared underneath the droning of the ceiling fan, in the golden lighting from the quaint bedside lamps.

Some of his questions can pose a challenge. You’re not always certain about the proper answer. The right one. You were raised to say what was expected of you. Taught to speak to please, not to speak your mind. To wait for your cue, and hold your thoughts in between.

Frequently, you hesitate, afraid to trip on your words.

But he doesn’t easily relent. He’s playful and curious. But above all, he’s patient and persistent.

“I don’t know,” you repeat.

“You know. Come on.”

“Okay, um… Lewis Carroll. I love– I love Alice.”

“Oh yea? You do? You like following big white rabbits to strange places, huh?”

His chest shakes with his raspy chuckle, and you laugh, until he pulls you in closer, sheathing himself deeper inside you, and your laughter plummets into a throaty groan.

Seamlessly, these new ceremonials have replaced the old ones, the ones that were carried out under wary gazes, in appraising silence.

Now, you don’t always count your steps on Fridays, but you leave work earlier, and when you arrive at the motel, you try to engage Raul in conversation. His discomfort is obvious, bordering on annoyance, as you disrupt his concentration while he’s busy drawing charcoal landscapes of jagged mountains. But these past two weeks, he seems to have loosened up a bit. Either you’re wearing him off, or he’s trying to get rid of you faster.

On the porch, in front of room number 2, you watch the sun slowly sink into the canopy of trees in an explosion of tangerine pink. Every week, the sunset creates a different palette of orange, but your emotion continues to be whole and unaltered.

Before stepping in, you flick the upside-down brass number. It smiles in greeting, swinging on its one remaining screw.

You wish the place carried Frankie’s scent. It never does, of course. As you fold the comforter and prop it under the windowsill, the only smells wafting around are that of laundry detergent, dust, and the faintest hint of mold.

There’s nothing tangible for you to hold on to in his absence, and this is by far the most difficult. It creates a vacuum, a fertile soil for foul, festering thoughts. Doubt, dread, agitation. During those seven days apart, there is no text or voicemail on your phone you can turn to for reassurance. No photo booth pictures stashed inside your wallet. No clothes of his to drape over your body and keep you warm and safe. Keep you sane.

Every so often, when you cannot find sleep, you convoke the memory of his gray t-shirt, the one with the v-neck and the pilled fabric. The sensation of the slightly rugged cotton under the pads of your fingers. The immediate comfort gently lulls you to sleep.

There is one thing, one thing only: the receipt from the burrito place, that you retrieved from the wastebasket after he’d left, that one time he brought you food. It’s tucked between two pages of your Moleskine planner. You’re not sure whether it’s cute or downright pathetic.

You had thought the want, the yearning, would ease with time. It only kept spreading to every corner of your existence, every aspect of your life. Instead of only missing his touch, you now miss his voice, too. His choice of words, the cadence of his speech, the pace of his gait. His crinkled-eyes, dimpled smile. The way he rolls up his sleeves, leaves the top buttons of his shirt open, and the way he undresses. His three-finger hold on his glass. His long reflecting pauses before he speaks. The freedom and safety you experience with him.

You just became better at handling the longing. Recently, you have become very good at handling numerous things. Quietly but steadfastly defying your father’s injunctions to comply with his dress code. Adrian’s glaring eyes of blue, their silent judgement. Ava living a life of her own, far away from you.

Reading helps. You hadn’t read in years, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it. Now, you carry a book with you everywhere in your I ❤ NY tote. In these last moments before he walks into the room, you lie on your side across the motel bed, your head propped on your hand, and you read.

And when Frankie arrives, everything makes sense again, everything is justified.

The wooden door creaks open, the brass number swiveling frantically, and his relief upon seeing you lights up the dim room. Hushed greetings, his large hands curling at your waist, pulling you into him, a husk of Hey, baby, his lips barely leaving yours while he tugs at your clothes, undressing you already.

There’s rarely any other form of preamble beyond an occasional variation of Fuck, I really missed you, Lee , his teeth trailing down the line of your throat, sinking in just shy of a bite. Out of breath, out of time.

The wait is over.

Does he still come here to escape? Does he come here for you? His urgency hasn’t abated. But his intent feels different.

Stop me, skin on skin, chest to chest, the weight of his body covering yours, calloused hands hooked on your shoulders for purchase, pounding into you loud and ruthless.

Stop me, crouched over you like a devouring beast, his face buried into the crook of your neck, shallow breaths and gripping hands, grinding deep inside your heat.

Stop me, and what you hear is, I trust you.

Deep grunts thrumming out of his throat, tumbling from his plush lips into your skin, a searing branding, an invisible mark.

His plea. Lee.

He comes right after you do, pulling out just in time to spurt hot and thick over your arching body, or inside your wanting mouth.

Later, when his spend has dried on your skin, when he’s kissed the soreness better, when your breathing has slowed, he brings you a glass of water, and waits until you’ve drank it all to bury his face between your legs, or fuck your throat if you begged him to.

And on some Fridays, he goes by the desk to sit on the rectangular chair. He positions it sideways from the framed mirror. Says the reflection distracts you. It’s true.

You could spend hours watching him. Watching him move, watching him sleep. Watch the care he puts in the way he handles his clothes and his truck and your pliant body. Watch him button up his jeans or tie his belt around your wrists. Watch his curls catch the light as he combs his fingers through them, the working of his throat, the pulsating throb of his heartbeat in his strong neck. The dip in his collarbone. The darker scar on his side. The muscles of his shoulders and his back, rippling under his freckled skin. Watch, and map those freckles with your lips.

You could spend the rest of your life with him.

“C’mere,” he beckons, with a little tilt of his head, and a light pat on his thigh.

You get up from wherever he left you lying, the bed, the rough carpeting, the bathroom tiles, and walk over to him on wobbly legs. There, he draws you into his lap in a face-away straddle, his hands on your waist guiding you, firm and gentle, as he makes room for himself inside of you. The tip of your toes barely reach the carpet once you’re seated, and you have to rely entirely on him for balance. You like that.

He braces his strong arms around you, and you keep your fingers curled around them, reclining against him, against his warmth. You like the sticky sensation of your combined sweats gluing your loose bodies. Your back molds to his chest like it was shaped for this very purpose.

Your head tips back onto his firm shoulder, and he props his chin in the curve of your neck. The slight swaying of your hips is languid and slow, barely perceivable, in the same way the earth’s revolution around the sun is imperceptible to its inhabitants.

Time lingers, in long lazy stretches, infinite moments in the amber lighting of the room, in the friendly shadows. In the heart of the night, and the folds of your existence. The low husk of his voice like honey in your ears, his words vibrating from his chest to your back, to your core.

You can hear the smile in his tone. If you close your eyes, you can see it.

He asks about your taste in books, music or movies, food and entertainment, and tells you about his. Silly games of Would you rather? and Never have I ever.

Scrunching up your nose under your pinched brow, brain cells scrambling back together inside your hazy brain, you try to produce coherent answers as his lush lips trace intricate patterns along your skin, your throat, your shoulders, nimble fingertips rolling your nipples into hardened peaks. A scrape of his teeth, followed by the wet glide of his tongue, soothing over your flushed skin.

Sometimes, you feel so full it’s overwhelming. The sensation, the emotion strangles the air out of you. Your cunt flutters around the thick, stiff girth of him, and he lets out a gravelly groan, cock throbbing inside your snug walls. Your slick pools down onto the coarse curls at his base. It’s like a virtuous circle. Everything feels right with him.

After a while, when you’ve melted inside, when amber twirls in your bloodstream and your thoughts have turned to swirling molasses, his hand slides down along your stomach. His calloused fingers parting your folds, he starts rubbing at your clit, telling you that it’s time to come for me, baby.

And when you do, he comes with you, shoving you down and deep onto his pulsating length, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth pressed to that sensitive spot over your pulse point, his feverish grunts sizzling against your damp skin.

When he comes inside you, when you come together, you are made brand-new. Anything’s possible. There’s nothing you can’t do.

The elating sensation is your favorite daydream, sitting at your desk, over dinner, stuck in traffic, or in the blue hours before dawn. It sustains you throughout the week. The promise of it tingles in tense anticipation, from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes, when you watch him walk over to the desk and fold his tall, massive figure into the ugly chair.

Week after week, question after question, you come into focus between his arms. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating. You keep getting better at it.

It’s a bittersweet ache, tender and addictive, to learn about his existence outside this room of yours. The borderless confines of his life. Of him. The details he chooses to confide in you, about his childhood, his past, and his present, in the dead of the night, his body wrapped around yours, chasing the contact of your skin. Chasing your touch, your softness, your understanding, when he used to grunt away from it. Like a threat, with bared teeth, and a shake of his head. A forbidding. A not yet.

It makes sense to you now. There’s an absolute about him. An all or nothing. You’re not sure when it happened. The tipping point. Perhaps in the bathroom, on that sunny morning after Christmas, when he crowded you against the sink with a wolfish look turning his gorgeous face dark and threatening. You think it was meant to scare you. One last attempt. Your last chance to recoil and escape.

You didn’t. You kept blooming, unfurling into your own limbs under the dark depth of his gaze, reflected in the black-edged mirror. You pressed back into him, the solid, steadying bulk of his body, of his broad chest. You pushed back and sunk deeper into his world.

Today, he had to scoop you up from the floor where you were lying, boneless, in the wet mess he drew out of you.

When he stormed into the room, you could still hear the engine of the truck revving. A scowl shadowed his face. Fidgety, tightly wound up, he began undressing you without a word. Unceremonious in his need, an echo of those early days, when he was imprisoned in his past, when his strength was unrestrained, when violence was his sole language.

Fingers digging into the tense muscles of his shoulders, carding through his hair, you sought eye contact, softly cooing, I’m here, Frankie, I’m here, until your voice got through him. Until he heard you, slowing down, drawing you close. His forehead smearing sweat over your temple, his ragged breathing fanning the shell of your ear. His fist clutching the fabric of your shirt in a ball, with a push-pull motion, torn and primal, I need it, Lee. Please, I need you.

You relented, gave into it, lose and pliant as he bent you over the desk with a press of his palm, flat between your shoulder blades, as he pulled your panties to the side and lined himself up, as he thrust into you in one ruthless shove, down to his base. The clasp of his watch biting into your flesh. He was still fully clothed.

Pulling on your wrists with an iron grip, he drilled into you at a brutal pace, skin catching at your entrance along his length, and you bit your lips through it, nearly drawing blood, until, at the very center of you, the pain turned into something blindingly pleasurable, bright and searing. A shockwave, erupting from your core, fast spreading along your limbs, lighting up every nerve-ending.

Tensing under his constraining hold, bucking against his grip, you cried out his name, your back achingly stiff. Slick gushing out of you fast and hot, as your legs trembled uncontrollably, and through the din of it all, his rumbling growl, a guttural string of Fuck, before you slumped onto the desk and he fucked his own release into you.

When he let go of you, he had to lay you on the carpet, where he collapsed next to you, chest heaving with exertion. Time blurred, you might have spent the whole night lying there, staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling, but he got up to undress.

He’s cradling you on his lap now, gently rocking into you. The slow and steady rhythm of his heartbeat aligned with yours, you’re bathed in his warmth, enveloped by his musky scent. You play along, searching your brain for answers. To his questions, and yours.

There’s no evidence of his earlier outburst, saved for his thumbs drawing circles on your wrists where his fingers left a bruising indent. And of course, the wet spot on the carpet.

Nuzzling your jawline, he trails a path of messy, lazy kisses down the column of your neck, capturing the tender skin between his plush lips, his tongue peeking through them.

“I should read it again. Alice. Read it so long ago. When I was a kid.”

Humming distractedly in agreement, your head lolls back on his shoulder.

“Did I hurt you, earlier?”

Your eyelids fly open. His voice is barely a murmur, no more than warm breath grazing your ear, and you feel him throb inside you.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

The vulnerability in his words shoots through your heart like a bullet. You free your arms to twine your fingers with his.

“What happened today, Frankie?”

His chest stiffens underneath you.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. It’s more… It’s the date.”

The overhead fan hums over the room, louder than your breathing, louder than his.

“A year ago, I agreed to a mission. With my former teammates. It was… It was bullshit. From the start. Nothing went as planned.”

He pauses and you wait, still and silent.

“One of us got killed.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing his hands with all of your strength.

A chilling, bone-deep dread settles over your body in the sweltering heat, so cold he can probably feel it. You don’t want him to.

“You said you resigned a couple of years ago?”

“I did. I worked for the private sector, on occasions. It’s over now.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Fuck no,” he snarls. “But some of my friends did. I– I had to go.” He clears his throat. “I chose to go.”

“Do you miss him?”

He doesn’t answer for a while. Lifting his hand in yours, you give his knuckles a long, open-mouthed kiss. His forehead rests heavy against the back of your head, his eyelashes a fluttering caress on your nape.

“For a long time, I felt responsible for his death.”

His words are dense with defeat. With sadness, and fatality. They sink heavily into you, into your bloodstream. You don’t need a mirror to know what his face looks like at this very moment. Your body will remember it, even if you live long enough to forget your own name. The pitch-blackness of his beautiful eyes, the stern crease splitting his brow, imploring for your touch. The tightness in his jaw. The downward curve of his plush lips.

That first night at the motel comes back rushing like a flood, like a wildfire. His roughness, the urgency saturating his actions, the anger in his grief. His bleeding wounds, invisible, evident, glaring. He reached for you through his despair, clutching your body, clinging to the idea of you.

Are you real?

I don’t know.

A dry sob wells up in your throat, but you swallow it down.

“What do you think now?”

“I think it doesn’t matter who’s responsible for his death. His girls are still orphaned.”

Between your lungs, the wild creature curls up into a ball. Its tears fill up your heart. There isn’t any pill or alcohol strong enough to numb this pain of yours. But it doesn’t matter. You want to feel what he feels.

You turn around. You kiss him.

—

“What about this one?”

He should be leaving soon. But your body’s soft and relaxed, curled into his side on the rumpled bed. Pleasantly cool in the muggy atmosphere of the motel room, in the dawn’s indigo hues. Your thin fingers hover gracefully over his skin, tracing the outlines of his scars, and it’s like you’re reshaping his entire body, all of his wounds, and his whole life, with the gentle touch of your fingertips.

“Frankie, what’s this one?”

He should be leaving soon. The sun’s about to come up.

“Did you save it for last because it’s the largest?” he deflects with a smirk.

Folding an arm over his chest, you prop your chin over it, frowning exaggeratedly with your jaw shifting to the side. He laughs so hard that your head bobbles with his shaking belly.

“That supposed to be an impression of me?”

“You recognized yourself,” you smile, sitting up next to him.

He should be leaving soon. And you know it. You’re giving him the space he needs to get up and get out. He fucking hates it.

“Stay here,” he says, curling his fingers around your arm as you’re about to get down from the bed.

The look you give him awakens the pain in his chest. You peer through the curtains, into the blue morning sky, and your gaze returns to him with a silent question.

“Come on. Please. Just a little longer.”

It’s not lost on him that he should be the one getting up. Not pleading.

The mattress creaks in protest as you move over it on your knees, sitting in a straddle across his hips.

“Yea, that’s better,” he smiles, smoothing his palms over your thighs. His left hand slides up to palm your breast, and he notices he hasn’t taken off his watch, tonight. It’s the second time this month.

“What’s this one?” you ask again, entirely undistracted, measuring up your hand to the length of the darker patch of skin.

“Okay,” he sighs, “I crashed a chopper near– wait, I can’t actually tell you that.”

“Jesus, Frankie,” you gasp, spreading both hands over the old wound, as if to stop a ghost bleeding. Your eyes have grown so wide, they eat up half your face.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s old. Wasn’t a big deal.”

It had been a big deal, at the time. There had been talks of awarding him a Silver Star for that mission.

“Did it hurt?”

“Mostly my pride. It wasn’t that bad, don’t worry. Nothing compared to what my sister threatened to do to me if I didn't leave the Army.”

“I can’t say I blame her. I would have probably done the same.”

“Ok, my turn. What’s this one?”

His left thumb skims along the thin line on your inner thigh, and he feels you tensing under his touch.

“It’s nothing,” you snap, taking your hands off his skin as if you just got burnt.

He presses his thumb into your soft flesh. The pain in his chest accentuates, radiating down to his stomach.

“You’re cheating,” he says, as softly as he can.

You face away from him, gaze flickering up to the window again, and you start moving away, but he holds you firmly in place with both hands on your waist.

“Lee. Tell me what it is.”

Seconds turn into minutes, the only sound in the room that of the ceiling fan’s motor, and the pain grows stronger, pulsating from his neck to his gut. Your eyes remain trained on the window, lost somewhere beyond the curtains.

“I had several more like this,” you start. Your tone is detached, your voice distant. “Smaller ones. On the back of my arms. When I was 17, my mother took me to a dermatologist. He removed them with laser treatment.”

You pause, and look down at him.

“She got me fixed, so I could find a good husband.”

His fingers dig into your flesh. It’s a full minute before he remembers to breathe, through his nose, because he can’t unclench his jaw. The chest pain turns into blinding, white-hot rage. His truck is parked outside and in his mind, the sequence of actions is crystal clear. Get you dressed. Get you in the cab. Drive away with you as far as the road goes, and never come back here.

“It burnt like hel—“

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he cuts in.

“I’m really not, Frankie,” you calmly answer. “What I am is a coward.”

He sits up with a cinch, cupping your face so you can’t recoil from him. Somehow, this would be easier if you looked upset. If you were crying. Showing any kind of emotion, really. But you’re far beyond that.

“I can’t let you say that. Not when you risk everything to come here every week.”

“Alright, so I’m a selfish coward,” you say with a joyless little smile.

“No. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect girl. Say it.”

It’s there. Your unbending will, your steel-hard determination. In your defiant gaze and your pinched lips. In the distance you're trying to put between your body and his.

“Okay, fine. Don’t say it. I’ll keep repeating it until you believe me. I can be fucking persistent, you know?” he adds, falling back onto the pillows.

“I know you can,“ you say, lifting a leg off the bed.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he nearly growls, a bruising grip on your thigh, “I’m not done with you.”

His clipped tone appears to be more effective on you. You sit back down, let your shoulders relax, and the palm of your hands find his skin again. Distant gaze, cold touch.

“What’s this one?” he asks, the blunt fingernail of his thumb grazing the grid-shaped scar on your left knee, his tone barely a question, and to his surprise, you come alive with a spark in your eyes.

“Oh! This one’s a good scar. I like it.”

You adjust your position over him, slotting your folds over his resting cock, and a coiling heat stirs in his loin.

“I had a bicycle when I was a kid. The most beautiful bicycle in the entire world. Red, the exact same shade as your truck. With a round cushion protection on the frame, I don’t know how you call that, and the letters MBK painted in white over it, you know the kind?”

He nods, and you continue talking.

“I would spend hours riding it. I would disappear for entire afternoons. It was heaven. And maybe you’re not going to believe me, but I was pretty reckless on that thing.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You’re smiling again.

“Well, one day, I was too reckless. I hit the brakes too abruptly and I skidded over gravel. I flew ten feet away from the bike and I tore my knee open. I got home covered in blood, my parents were furious.”

A vengeful smile curves your lips, one he’s never seen on your face.

“They confiscated the bike. My mother said it wasn’t ladylike, and my father said– I can’t remember his exact words, probably 'you can’t damage my property,’ or something along those lines. They never let me on a bike again after that.”

“How’s that a happy story?” he frowns.

“I didn’t say it was a happy story. I said it’s a good scar. I got to keep this one. It reminds me of what I’m capable of. Even when I want to forget.”

The sun is rising. A new day colors the sky in vivid bronze. The light filters into the room through the yellow curtains, dust particles suspended in the air, suspended like Frankie’s life when he can’t be with you.

He should leave, but instead, he’s going to fuck you one more time. Pump you full of his come. Brand you with his essence, mark you as his in the only way he can before he has to let you go back to face those people who put murder on his mind.

His hands skim along your thighs to the swell of your ass, roughly kneading the round of your cheeks. His grip settles on your hips, and he bucks up into you, ever so lightly, his length hardening between your lips. He sees it on your face, on your profile bathed in the first ray of sunlight. The moment when you register his intention. The shift in your body, the echo to his desire. So powerful, so immediate, it’s almost like black magic. Your mouth parts open, your back arches. You press down on him.

“That serves him well, your father,” he says, sliding you slowly over his cock.

“How’s that?” you ask, voice laced with lust.

“Look what you’re riding now.”

—

The pillow is damp underneath your back, sweat exuding from your every pore. The last days of March have been unforgiving. You find yourself longing for a room with a proper air conditioning system, instead of the motel’s weak, outdated fan that only swishes hot air.

Frankie’s searing touch doesn’t help. Stroking the back of your arm in a repetitive up-and-down motion, he’s laying across the bed, his head resting heavy on your lap, his long hair curling in every direction in this sweltering atmosphere.

Instead of shying away from the discomfort, you embrace it. With your fingers twined in his locks, you lean into his touch, focusing on his high forehead, and the crease in his brow. On his long eyelashes, the curve of his lips as he speaks, the working of his throat.

Ignoring the dark blue rectangle of night sky, gradually lightening up behind the musty curtains.

Dawn used to be a deliverance. From your thoughts that the night painted black. From the wait, when Adrian wouldn’t come back. From a forced rest that never really came, another disappointment, another let down, another part of your life requiring the artificial help of chemicals.

Now, you resent it. Dawn is when Frankie leaves you behind to go back to his family. Dawn is when he’s the happiest, with his child, without you, in a realm over which you have no grasp.

A rational part of you acknowledges that it’s easier if he leaves before the sun rises. It prevents you from yearning for things you’re afraid to want. Things you cannot have. A life with him in broad daylight. A life without shame.

Recently, he’s become increasingly reluctant to let go of you. Dawn finds him wrapped around your body. Last week, he stayed past daybreak, and fucked you in the sunlight.

The brighter tone of his skin, the lighter shade of his curls, the depth of his mahogany irises hit by a sunbeam, everything was like a knife through your chest.

“Lee?”

The caressing timber of his husky voice brings you back to the soft amber light from the dusty lampshades, to the humming fan, and the blue rectangle.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I asked if you like it. Your job.”

“God no, I hate it! Sales productivity statistics and accounting manager, can you picture me?”

He huffs his breathless chuckle, the one that sends tremors rippling through your chest.

“Not really, no.”

“I’m terrible at it, and it’s a problem, but no one says anything because daddy runs the company. I don’t understand why he insists on maintaining me in this position. It’s like a power play. He needs me to be miserable.”

Frankie’s hand pauses, fingers digging into your flesh, and he cranes his neck to peer at your face. You give him a reassuring smile. A genuine one.

“Is that what you studied at university? Accounting and statistics?”

You wipe your sweaty brow with the back of your hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yes. But university was a golden parenthesis. I minored in Russian literature. Not a skill that easily translates to the employment market, but Richard was thoroughly pissed,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

“My little punk.”

His smile is brighter than the midday sun. Your index finger darts to the dimple in his right cheek.

“I really like this,” you whisper, your voice dropping, thick with heat and arousal. With affection. “And these,” you add, scraping your fingernail over the bare patches on each side of his jaw.

“Mmh. I’ve noticed,” he says with a smug expression.

“Oh, you have?” You try to laugh off your embarrassment, but what comes out is a quivering sound, betraying the want that hinders your throat.

He grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth, closing his plush lips around your index finger, wrapping his tongue around it. Your belly quakes. You clench around nothing.

He releases your hand, and you hope he’ll get up and move over you, but instead, he reaches for your arm again, resuming his rhythmic strokes.

“So what would you do, if you didn’t do this?” he asks.

You sigh, glancing up, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror above the desk.

“I’ve no idea, really. I never allowed myself to consider the possibility.” And before he can prod any further, you add, “What about you? What would you have liked to do, if you hadn’t become a pilot?”

The diversion doesn’t fool him, you know it. You’re acutely aware of his gaze, scrutinizing your face. You picture the familiar, pensive frown. His hand leaves your arm as he suddenly gets up, air hitting your damp skin where his head was lying.

A few strides, and he steps into the bathroom, disappearing behind the partition wall. The tap runs for a moment, and there’s the distinct sound of wrung out fabric before he comes out, holding the hand towel.

You watch him walk back toward you, his naked body glistening with sweat, highlighted in shadows in the warm lighting. You think about how beautiful it is, about your extensive, intimate knowledge of it. How it feels under your touch, every single part of him. How this knowledge is now constituent of the woman you have become.

You know the callousness of his palms that catches at your clothes. You know the silkiness of his curls around your fingers, the smoothness of his chest against your breasts, the taste of his mouth and the bobbing of his pebbled throat between your lips. The thicker skin of his shoulders, tanned and freckled. The coarseness of the darker hairs under his navel, and how they feel rubbing at your clit. You know the weight of his cock in your hand, on your tongue, inside your walls.

And if you know all this, then, isn’t he yours?

He circles the bed over to your side, by the window, and sits next to you.

Delicately, his fingers circle your wrist. He lifts your arm, and brings your hand to his lips, nuzzling the relaxed curl of your fingers open, to press a kiss inside your palm. His eyes briefly flicker shut as he inhales the transparent skin of your inner wrist.

Lowering your arm, he starts running the towel along it and you jolt at the contact of the cold, wet fabric, letting out a short whimpering sound.

The sensation is sudden, seizing like an electrical shock, but the relief is immediate. The coolness radiates on the surface of your feverish skin, soothing your thoughts. Eyes fluttering shut, you relax into it.

“Maybe an architect,” he starts, the towel gliding up to your shoulder, “or a carpenter. Build stuff, for a change. Instead of destroying them.”

Goosebumps break out along your arms, on your nape, as he skims the towel over the plane of your chest in slow, meticulous movements. As he rounds your breasts with reverent care, one, then the other, your nipples tightening in peaked buds, the low rumble of his voice filling your mind, his words boring into your heart.

The towel brushes up, tracing your collarbone, left, then right. Higher along the column of your throat, curling to the side of your neck. A droplet of water rolls down between your breasts, running along your stomach to end its course into your navel. You sigh.

“I could… run a small business, building houses or crafting furniture. In a small town, somewhere up north. Somewhere with seasons,” he says.

The towel wipes over your trembling belly, over your mound, down your inner thigh. He’s slow, precise, thorough. Careful and gentle with your limp limbs. You’re sinking into the mattress, and floating over it all at once.

You lift a heavy eyelid, your dazed gaze landing on his gorgeous face. He’s solemn, focused on his task.

He readjusts his position on the mattress, so lightly the bed barely moves, and twists his torso to reach down your leg.

“You could be my accountant.”

Your eyes shoot open. He’s facing away from you, wiping the towel under the arch of your foot.

“The last thing you want is to have me as your bookkeeper,” you whisper, your heart beating in your throat.

He turns around, looking straight at you. Soft sad eyes, cold hard stare.

“That’s all I want for the rest of my life, Lee. Be with you night and day.”

—

Everything seems to hinge on you now.

His balance, his happiness, his redemption.

You filled a void, a hollowness inside his chest, he carries you with him wherever he goes. A pale shade of yellow and celadon green.

He tries to convince himself it’s harmless. That he’s not doing anything wrong. That it’s easier this way. Easier than the drugs, easier than placing that burden on his daughter’s shoulders. He tells himself the peace you bring him makes him a better man, and a better father. Makes him worthy again. There might even be some truth to it.

He’s not so sure if he deserves the second chance. If he deserves the parts of you that you confide in him. Your past, your regrets, your secret victories. Your hindered aspirations and the shores of your inner island, within his reach. The touch of your cool skin. The strength of your embrace. The veneration in your eyes. Your trust, your faith. Your time.

But he wants to believe it. It’s more of a fundamental need, really.

And as long as he’s with you, the illusion holds. When you’re sitting next to him in the truck, singing along to the tunes playing on the old crackling stereo as he drives to nowhere, when his body’s wrapped around yours in the dark, when he murmurs against your temple everything and anything that runs through his mind, when you’re coming undone between his hold, with his name on your lips. He believes he can be as good for you as you are for him.

But it’s a thin fabric. One that tears the very minute he steps outside the room, leaving your sleepy form tucked under the starchy sheet.

Day after day, until the next week, he’s left on his own to fence off the thoughts that plague him.

The voice inside him, relentless, somber, asking how much longer this can last. How long before the consequences on your life are irreversible? How long until that man who’s not your husband finds out, and takes action? What repercussions would you face, then?

He knows what he’d be capable of if he ever met him. He doesn’t like to think about it.

You won’t open up about your life with him, no matter how much he prods and pry. He knows your strength. And he chose to trust it.

Seven months, and one week. He sat down with the cardboard calendar hanging above Lupe’s desk at work, and counted. His mind crowded, overflowing with what ifs.

What if he took you out of this shitty motel, for once? Not just to drive into the night, but on a proper date. Dinner. A movie. Fucking lunch. A weekend somewhere. An entire vacation.

What if he took you out of your life?

Lupe started dating this Marcus guy back in December. Now she’s staying at his place every other night. The man is decent, one of the best paramedics he’s worked with, honest, reliable and steadfast. The kind of man Lupe deserves, and that he doesn’t mind around Lua.

He should move out of the house. Lupe hasn’t said anything yet, but it’s just one more grace she gives him that he hasn’t earned. Every time they see each other, Will hints at it, the allusions becoming increasingly less subtle.

The truth is, he sees no point in moving forward with his life if it’s not with you. If it’s not to take care of you, and provide for you. Watch you thrive, keep you safe.

A couple of weeks back, when he’d first thought about it, he’d deemed the idea crazy, painfully aware of all the frustrations a couple’s daily life entails.

Now, it’s the only choice that makes any sense to him.

—

The airport terminal is bustling with flocks of tourists. Noisy families with children too young to travel, transient businessmen and women, groups of youths of dubious soberness flying out after spring break.

Ava stands out in the crowd, her tall frame topped with a short bob of bright purple hair, and you spot her immediately. Standing on your tiptoes, you wave at her until she sees you and starts running in your direction.

She all but leaps into your open arms, and you both grab at each other, leaning into the embrace, laughing. You inhale her scent, searching for that baby smell in the crook of her neck.

“Oh my god, pup, your hair!” you exclaim. “You look terrific!”

“Yeah? You like it?” she asks with a broad smile, running her fingers through her locks.

“I love it! It’s perfect for you!”

In turn, she takes you in, looking you up and down, and lets out a low whistling sound.

“You look good, too. You look better than good. You look gorgeous!”

“Oh shush,” you gesture bashfully, but you can’t hold back your own smile.

The two of you walk to the parking lot to retrieve your car, immersed in bubbly conversation, oblivious to the moving crowds around you.

Driving out of the airport, you glance at the sign indicating the 589 northbound and smile at your precious secret, before making a left turn south.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks, “I’m hungry! Feed me! Feedmefeedmefeedme!” she chants, before breaking into a high-pitched giggle.

“Alright, alright! Hold tight, I’m taking you somewhere special. Do you like burritos?”

“Who doesn’t like burritos? Wait, what? Burritos? Do you even eat burritos? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You had to type the address from the crumpled receipt into your GPS. Until today, you’ve never allowed yourself to go there. Not on your own.

It’s a small cantina with tiled walls and concrete floors, colorful trinkets arranged in pyramidal displays behind the counter, chalkboard menus and an endless list of drinks. Star-shaped lanterns are hanging from the ceiling, and the staff is busy but jovial.

Lunchtime on a Saturday, the place is packed with couples and kids, and your pulse accelerates. You hadn’t considered the possibility of running into Frankie and his family.

You place your orders, and after a short wait, you secure a spot in the back of the restaurant. Sitting on high metal stools behind a round table, you catch up on the past three months as if you hadn’t texted every other day, speaking with your mouths full, sauce dripping down your fingers.

The life she’s built for herself in New York treats Ava better than anything you could have hoped for, anything you could have helped her achieve, had she stayed here. A job in a cutting-edge art gallery, where her vibrant personality and her flair for networking are not only recognized but valued, a bustling social life, more thrilling projects than you can keep track of, all of it balanced by Polly’s grounding presence by her side.

Your choices and sacrifices, justified.

Ava puts down the crumbling remnants of her vegetarian burrito to wipe her mouth, and takes a sip of her margarita.

“You sure you don’t want to drink anything?”

“I’m drinking something,” you answer, pointing at your iced tea.

“Whatever you say, girl,” she shrugs.

“It’s too bad you’re not staying with me. It’s idiotic, you’re only here for a couple of days and you have to sleep over at Jules’.”

“Listen, even if your douchebag of a fiancé had agreed to have me, which I know he didn’t, I don’t want to see his ass face.”

“Alright,” you concede, “valid.”

She nearly chokes on her margarita. Setting her glass down, she gives you a pointed stare, emphatically scrutinizing your face.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on with you? How are you? I mean, that’s obviously the wrong question, you’re fucking thriving. What happened? What’s happening? New medication? Are you finally leaving him?”

“I’m not taking any medication,” you answer with unexpected satisfaction. “But no, I’m not leaving him.”

You catch yourself before you can add another word.

“Are you still seeing that other guy?”

You nod, dipping your head, heat creeping up your neck. Why are you like this?

“I take it he likes burritos, am I right?

“You are correct in your assumption, detective,” you quip with a grin.

There’s a pause as Ava seems to consider her next question. It’s always so easy for you to forget that she’s a grownup now. That she knows you at least as well as you know her. That she has the capacity to outsmart you. The notion flares pride in your chest.

“Is he married? Is that why you haven’t run off together in the sunset yet?”

“I’m not sure if he’s married or not.”

“What does he do in life?”

“I don’t know.”

Ava throws up her hands.

“Girl! What do you know?” she exclaims with only half-feigned exasperation.

I know what’s important. He’s a father. He’s a friend and a brother. A pilot and a veteran. He's thoughtful and observant. He’s organized and practical. And a reluctant sentimental. He learned to swim in the Pacific Ocean. He’s capable of cold-blooded violence, but it will break him. He’s capable of infinite tenderness. And it will save him.

You pull a face, communicating how little you care about what you don’t know. Your sister shifts on the hard stool. She frowns, and when she speaks next, her voice is low, her tone conspiratorial.

“Adrian doesn’t suspect anything?”

“Of course, he does. Or he did. His attention is elsewhere, for now. Seems serious.”

“Again?”

“Again,” you nod.

Ava squirms on her stool again, probably trying to restrain her temper.

Your mind wanders, jumping back through time at light-speed, to when you first met Adrian. To the way he used to hold your hand when you started dating, squeezing your fingers with his. Letting you choose the wine, opening doors for you. To the affection in his smile, and how fast he started calling you babe . The glimmer warming his cold blue eyes when he introduced you to his family. The way he leaves the bathroom mirror splattered in toothpaste every time he brushes his teeth. The way he lets his alarm ring off forever after he’s gotten up even if you’re still in bed, even on weekends.

The ease with which he admitted to all his flings, whenever you confronted him, but never confessed to the one with his coworker, the ambitious young lawyer.

Would you admit to having an affair? Would you use that ugly word that make you crawl out of your skin? Would you deny it? Could you answer No, I’m not seeing anyone? Could you bear the betrayal of denying Frankie’s existence? The truth of what you share, but can’t define?

“Your fiancé is a bag of dicks,” Ava finally says, shaking her head.

“His obliviousness suits me for now,” you remind her.

“I don’t understand why you don’t leave him,” she snaps back, forsaking her reserve. “He got his big promotion, he got what he wanted! And Richard loves him, it’s not like he’s going to fire him just because you two broke up, right? You don’t really love him anymore, do you?” she adds on second thoughts.

The words spill out of you unchecked, once more. Just like in the truck with Frankie, back in January. Months, years for the idea to mature below the surface of your conscious thoughts, the reflective process unbeknown to you.

“I’m scared, Ava. I’m scared shitless. I want to leave. I’ve been wanting to leave for so long. Adrian, the company, that fucking ugly apartment.”

“Well then fucking do it, Lee!”

“If I leave, I have nothing. No job, nowhere to go.”

And if you could give up a relatively comfortable life, would you be able to renounce the refuge of your sadness? Of your life between the folds?

“You have money,” Ava counters. “You have shares. Sell them. Richard can’t stop you. Get a lawyer, if you have to. One that’s not on Adrian’s payroll. And then you can fuck your man Friday every day of the week, how’s that?”

You think about the folded bedspread under the windowsill. About the wet hand towel brushing up your skin. The trucker hat on the desk, and his fingers splayed on the steering wheel. The pleading arch of his brow.

You think about that space between Frankie’s chin and collarbone, that contains your safety, your desires, and all of your hopes.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I should leave a man for another one,” you whisper.

Ava’s eyes widen. She sits up straight, a smirk tugging the corner of her lips.

“I don’t know either, but it looks like this one fucked some sense into you. The irony.”

She’s withholding something, you realize. It’s in her uncharacteristic pauses, her sideways glances. Surprisingly, human interactions were simpler when pills kept you numbed and oblivious. Being attuned to everyone’s minute expressions is a daily trial.

“Why don’t you move to New York with us?” she eventually asks. “We can take you in until you find a job there, for as long as you need.”

There’s that we again. People talking about you in your absence, judging your choices, plotting your future.

“I don’t know how to do anything, Ava. I have zero skills.”

“First off, that’s not true,” she retorts, relentless with her well-rehearsed arguments. “And then, Polly can help you find something. Lee, if you can leave this company, there’s literally nothing you can’t do.”

Suddenly, you feel exhausted. Weary and old. A bone-deep lassitude. And at the heart of it, the realization that this is a liminal sequence in your life.

“Is that why you flew here for the weekend? To ask me to come away with you?”

“Are you mad?” she asks with a face. A little girl’s expression, afraid of being scolded. Your little girl.

“No, I’m not mad, pup. I can’t be mad. You came back for me.”

“Of course, I came back for you. I was never going to leave you behind, silly.”

****

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tintinn16 · 1 month ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 17

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst That could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

summary: joel went back to town for help

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 17

masterlist!

previous | chapter 16

Joel sat in the dimly lit truck, gripping the steering wheel as his mind raced. Every passing motel sign felt like a twisted beacon of hope, and yet, nothing—just more dead ends.

He couldn’t stop.

The thought of you out there, taken, in some nightmare he couldn't quite piece together, was enough to drive him insane. He didn't know who this man was, didn't know his name, but Joel remembered the handwriting—he'd seen it in guest books at motels, on receipts left behind, under fake names, always a step ahead.

He slammed his fist into the dashboard, frustration bubbling inside him, pulling him under like a riptide.

The FBI was after him, every second ticking down like a clock he couldn't stop. Joel had become the face of a crime he didn't commit, and now the world believed he was the monster. His brother Tommy had no idea about the depth of this nightmare, and Joel wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that secret.

Ellie kept calling, desperate to find him, but he couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t risk it—not when the only thing that mattered now was finding you. The guilt gnawed at him like a relentless beast. He couldn’t protect you. He had failed. But he wouldn't let it end here.

Hotel after hotel, state after state—the same fluorescent vacancy signs blinking back at him, taunting him like the glow of distant stars that could never be reached.

He had been here with you, in these places, laughing in the safety of their anonymity. But now, those memories had turned to ash in his hands. Every room felt hollow, stripped of meaning, just like the heart inside his chest.

The guest books were all the same—fake names, neat handwriting, the kind that made Joel’s skin crawl with recognition. The bastard was mocking him, leaving a breadcrumb trail that twisted and turned like a sick game of cat and mouse.

And Joel, in his desperation, was losing—losing time, losing you.

Two weeks had passed since you were taken, and each second since felt like it carved another piece from his soul. His temper flared now—small arguments turning into wild eruptions with motel clerks who wouldn’t let him see the guest books.

More than once, his hand found itself tangled in the collar of some poor receptionist’s shirt, his voice hoarse, demanding, begging for information. Every time, he had to stop himself, had to remember that he was a fugitive. That the world had turned against him.

Disguises, fake hats, beards—he did what he could to move undetected. But he couldn’t hide from himself. The nightmares came every night, slithering into his dreams like poison, filling him with scenes of you screaming, of blood, of hands he couldn’t reach.

He drowned it out the only way he knew how—pills, whiskey, whatever he could find. His body was exhausted, his mind unraveling thread by thread, as the days bled into each other.

And then the questions started, sharp and relentless, piercing his already fraying sanity. What if you weren’t taken? What if you had seen the news about him? What if you knew everything—Ben, Jamie, the blood on his hands—and you ran? Fled from him, from the monster he had become.

His heart clenched at the thought, a black hole opening in his chest. No. He couldn’t believe that. You wouldn’t. But the thought twisted inside him, planting seeds of doubt he couldn’t shake.

Was it safe to go back? Could he risk returning to town, even in secret, just to see Tommy? To beg for help? But would you be there? What if you were hiding from him? The questions swarmed like locusts in his mind, buzzing louder and louder until he couldn’t think. He had to go back.

***

Ellie slammed her fists on the table, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Tell me where the fuck he is, Tommy. I need to see him.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His hands rubbed his temples as he tried to keep his composure. “Ellie, I don’t know where he is.”

“You lied!” Ellie snapped, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He’s out there, hunted, I need to find him!”

“I said I don’t know, Ellie!” Tommy barked back, his voice strained with frustration. “We were supposed to meet in Miami, before all this shit happened. But now? I don’t know where the hell he is.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Ellie’s voice trembled with anger and fear, her fists clenched tight at her sides. “You know something. You have to.”

“Ellie, stop!” Tommy’s voice cracked, the weight of the argument pressing hard against him. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, and filled with a desperation he hadn’t shown before. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

Maria stepped in between them, her voice a soft but firm plea for calm. “Both of you, stop. This isn’t helping. We need to think straight about this.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken fears. Ellie turned away, frustrated, pacing the living room like a caged animal. She had been staying with Tommy and Maria since Joel had vanished, their home feeling more like a prison with each passing day.

That night, the house was quiet. Tommy and Maria were asleep, their babyboy, Luke, stirring occasionally in his crib. But Maria heard something.

A noise—a creak in the floorboards that didn’t belong. She slipped out of bed, moving with the cautious grace of a mother on high alert. She headed to the kitchen to prepare formula for Luke, but then… she heard it again.

Her heart raced, fear crawling up her spine. Was it a burglar? An intruder? She called out for Tommy, but no answer. Grabbing Tommy’s golf club, Maria moved carefully down the hallway, her knuckles white around the handle.

And then a hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

“Shh.”

She froze.

The hand let go, and she spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. “Joel?!”

Joel’s face was gaunt, shadowed by exhaustion, his eyes sunken deep into his skull. He held his hands up, trying to calm her, but Maria’s body shook with shock and fear.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed, backing away slowly, the club still in her grip. The news reports about Joel raced through her mind—murder, fugitives, everything. She had seen him as family once, but now… she wasn’t sure.

“Maria, please,” Joel whispered, desperation seeping into his voice. “I need to talk to Tommy.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Maria’s voice was small now, shaking. “I—" she looked down the hall toward the bedrooms, fear clutching her chest.

“I didn’t do it,” Joel said, stepping closer, his voice low, almost pleading. “I didn’t kill the Gibsons. I swear it.”

Maria swallowed hard, her eyes wide with disbelief. “But you killed the pastor. And the boy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with a storm of emotions. “I had to. I had to get rid of them to protect her.”

Maria took another step back, her body trembling. Joel could see the fear in her eyes—she was afraid of him now, the weight of his actions hanging between them like a noose.

“Please, Maria,” Joel whispered. “I need to talk to Tommy.”

Tommy awoke to the sound of Maria’s voice, low and strained. He stumbled out of bed, heading toward the kitchen, his heart sinking when he saw who was there.

“Joel? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Joel’s head snapped up, his face a mask of desperation and grief. “Tommy… I need your help. She’s gone.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, gone?”

Joel’s voice broke as he stepped forward, his hands trembling. “She’s been taken. I—I don’t know what to do.”

Tommy stared at his brother, his eyes wide with disbelief. Joel stood before him like a ghost—hollow, ragged, a shadow of the man he once knew. His face was drawn, eyes sunken with sleepless nights and too much whiskey.

His clothes hung off him, sweat-stained and worn, like they had been clinging to him for days. Tommy could hardly recognize the man in front of him. His brother was now a broken mess, standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but down.

“Come on,” Tommy muttered, glancing back at Maria, who was still clutching Luke protectively. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Maria nodded nervously, holding Luke tighter against her chest, and Tommy led Joel into the living room, the air thick with tension. Once they were alone, Tommy turned to face his brother, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with restrained fury.

“What the fuck, Joel? What have you done?”

Joel’s hands shook as he rubbed his face, his mind racing, searching for words that made sense. But nothing about this made sense anymore. “I didn’t… I didn’t kill the Gibsons. Tommy, I swear to God—someone’s trying to trap me.”

Tommy’s heart raced, every fiber of him wanting to believe his brother, but the weight of everything he’d heard pressed against his chest like a stone. “Trap you? You expect me to believe that? You fucking killed the pastor, Joel! You killed the boy!”

Joel flinched as if Tommy’s words were a physical blow, his shoulders slumping under the guilt he carried like a cross. He looked down at the floor, his voice cracking. “I didn’t have a choice, Tommy. I had to protect her.”

Tommy's stomach churned as he stared at Joel, disgust twisting in his gut. “You had to? Had to what? What the fuck does that mean?” He felt betrayed, a deep wound splitting his chest open. “You lied to me, Joel. You lied to me.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and he lifted his gaze, his eyes bloodshot and full of desperation. “I did it for her. I had to get rid of them to keep her safe.”

Tommy’s head pounded, his world spinning. “Keep her safe? You think killing people is keeping her safe?” His voice rose, barely contained, anger flooding his veins like wildfire.

“The fucking FBI is after you, Joel! Do you understand that? The FBI!” He was yelling now, his words slamming into the walls of the room, reverberating like a storm.

Joel clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I know that! You think I don’t know how bad it is? I didn’t want this, Tommy, but I’m trying—”

“Trying?!” Tommy cut him off, his voice laced with venom. “You fucking murdered people! And you’re telling me you’re trying?” His hands trembled as he stepped closer, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and sorrow.

Joel’s eyes were hollow, filled with an ocean of guilt he could no longer drown. He took a breath, but it came out ragged, as if the very act of breathing was becoming too much to bear.

“I know… I know I fucked up, Tommy.” His voice wavered, soft, broken. “But I need your help. I need to find her.”

Tommy’s heart twisted painfully. He could see the desperation in Joel’s eyes—the same eyes that had always watched out for him, always protected him.

But now, those eyes were clouded with something darker, something Tommy couldn’t reach. “You lost her?” Tommy’s voice was quiet now, raw with disbelief. “What do you mean you lost her?”

Joel’s hand pressed against his forehead as if he could somehow hold his mind together through sheer willpower. “She was taken. Two weeks ago. I don’t know where she is, and I’ve searched everywhere. I’m losing my mind, Tommy, and I need you to help me find her.”

Tommy stepped back, his hand running through his hair as the gravity of Joel’s words hit him. He had never seen his brother like this—not since Sarah, not since Jane. Back then, Joel had crumbled, but this... this was something worse.

The cracks were deeper now, like his soul was unraveling before Tommy's eyes, and every piece that fell apart took something vital with it. Tommy’s anger began to ebb, replaced by a gnawing worry.

“Joel…” Tommy’s voice softened, heavy with concern. “Tell me everything. What happened?"

Joel sat down heavily, his hands trembling as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a crumpled letter. His fingers, stiff and rough with callouses, were unsteady as he handed it to Tommy.

“This man… he’s been followin’ us. Watchin’ her. I didn’t notice at first, didn’t see it until it was too late.” His voice broke, thick with guilt. "I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve protected her better."

Tommy took the letter, unfolding it carefully, the paper soft with wear, the ink smudged from being handled so many times. As he read, the air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing in around him as the words sank into his chest like stones. The man’s words were obsessive, possessive. A predator circling his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“How the hell did you not notice you were bein’ followed?” Tommy’s voice was a low hiss, disbelief and frustration swirling in his mind. “How could you let this happen?”

Joel’s head dropped into his hands, his fingers gripping his hair tightly as if trying to hold himself together by sheer force. “I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t fucking know. I was tryin’—God, I was tryin’ to protect her, but I didn’t see him… didn’t know.” His voice cracked, and the weight of his own failure bore down on him, suffocating him.

“I can’t get them outta my head. The pastor, the boy… I see their faces every time I close my eyes. I did what I had to, but it’s like their ghosts are hauntin’ me. And now she’s gone, and I—"

Tommy's jaw tightened. Joel wasn’t just running from the law. He was running from himself, from the blood on his hands. The guilt was eating him alive, and now, with you gone, it was suffocating him. Tommy didn’t know if his brother could survive this one.

“We can’t go to the cops, Joel,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head. “They’re after you. You step one foot outside, and they’ll hunt you down. You’re a fugitive.”

Joel's eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, locked onto Tommy’s. "I don't care about me," he rasped. “I just need to find her. I can't lose her, Tommy. Not her too. If I lose her…” His voice faltered, and for a moment, he looked utterly broken.

“I can’t go through that pain again. I can't. It’ll kill me.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please, Tommy. Please help me.”

Tommy’s heart twisted. Joel had been strong his entire life, but this—this wasn’t strength. This was a man drowning, clutching at anything to keep himself from slipping under.

Before Tommy could say a word, the sound of footsteps echoed softly behind them. They both turned, and there she was.

“Joel?” Ellie stood in the doorway, her voice quiet but full of confusion. Her eyes were wide, full of questions she didn’t even know how to ask yet.

Ellie stood in the doorway, her small frame tense with confusion and concern, her eyes wide and full of unspoken questions that seemed to hang heavy in the air.

For a moment, neither Tommy nor Joel moved—until Ellie broke the silence, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around Joel. The reunion was wordless, raw, and desperate.

She was mad—furious, even—but beneath the anger was relief, deep and overwhelming. She clung to him like a lifeline, her face buried against his chest, and Joel felt the knot in his heart loosen, the guilt he had been carrying since the day he left her finally beginning to lift.

“Ellie…” His voice was rough, laden with everything he couldn’t say. His arms came around her, pulling her close as he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. She was here. Safe. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

Ellie pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “What the fuck, Joel?" Her voice cracked, caught between anger and the ache of missing him. "I thought something happened to you. I thought you were dead."

Joel closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the wave of guilt that surged through him. He swallowed hard, the weight of what he had done pressing against his chest.

"I miss you every day. But I—" His voice faltered, thick with regret. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry I left you.

Ellie’s gaze softened, and the anger seemed to drain out of her. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, softer.

She hesitated, looking around the room as if searching for something. "Where is she?"

Joel’s heart sank, and he looked away, his jaw tightening. “She’s gone,” he whispered, the words like knives in his throat. “Someone took her.”

“What?” Ellie blinked in shock, her brows furrowing. "But… who? Her parents are dead. Joel—" She paused, her voice lowering. "Did you… did you kill them? Did you kill her parents?"

“No!" Joel's voice was sharp, defensive. "I didn’t kill her parents, Ellie. But I—" He hesitated, his throat tightening.

"You killed Ben and Jamie." Ellie said bluntly. There was a brief, Ellie stared at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, before she exhaled sharply.

“You had to,” she said, her tone flat but understanding. "You did what you had to do." Her words were blunt, as if she'd already accepted the brutal reality they lived in.

“They fucking deserved it.”

Joel nodded, the relief almost too much to bear. He’d been so afraid of losing her too, afraid she would look at him differently. But Ellie, somehow, understood. She always had.

Tommy finally spoke, stepping forward. "You can’t stay here, Joel. The cops are lookin’ for you. The FBI is breathin' down our necks. You stay here, and they’ll catch you. Worse than that, they’ll lock you up for life—if they don’t kill you first.”

“I know,” Joel muttered, his voice low, thick with frustration and dread. “I gotta find her. I have to.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, his mind working through the possibilities. “But we gotta be smart about it. No cops. I’ll handle the heat here, keep 'em off your trail, but you—” He pointed at Joel. “You need to figure out who the fuck took her. Any clues? Anythin’ at all?”

Joel’s head spun, trying to piece together the broken fragments of memory. Then, like a flash, it came to him—Chicago. The man, the one who had been following them.

He had seen him, once, back when you had met the man. "Chicago,"

"She tole me about him, I--I don't remember his name, I was too mad at her for talking to people," Joel murmured, his brow furrowing as the memory sharpened. "I gotta go back there."

Ellie, who had been standing quietly, suddenly cut in, her voice determined. “I’m coming with you.”

“No," Joel shook his head, his voice firm. “It’s too dangerous, Ellie. I can’t drag you into this.”

Tommy backed him up immediately. “He’s right, kid. You’re stayin’ here, with me and Maria. We’ll keep you safe.”

Ellie’s eyes flared with frustration, her voice sharp as she threw back Joel’s words. “Like hell I’m staying here, Joel! She’s my friend too! You think I’m just gonna sit around while you go off, risking your life? No fucking way. I’m coming with you. I don’t care what you say!”

Joel’s heart clenched at the fire in her, the same fierce, stubborn defiance that once belonged to Sarah. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension, like the calm before a storm.

“You stay here, Ellie,” Joel said again, his tone cold, trying to distance himself from the heat of the moment. "You can’t come with me."

Ellie shook her head, her jaw tightening. “No, Joel! I’m not letting you—"

“Ellie!” Joel interrupted, his voice growing sharper. “Ellie, stay here! You need to listen to me.”

She was relentless, her words flying out faster than he could rein her in, her emotions flooding over her like a wave. "I’m not a kid anymore that you can just leave behind! I come with you!”

“Ellie. Ellie!” Joel’s voice started to crack under the weight of it, but she wouldn’t stop.

"Ellie! ELLIE, LISTEN TO ME!"

His shout echoed through the room like a gunshot, halting everything in its tracks. Even Tommy flinched. Ellie froze, her wide eyes finally settling on Joel’s face, the sheer force of his voice cutting through her resolve.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy, and suffocating, like the air had been knocked from the room. Ellie’s breath hitched, her defiance faltering as she saw the raw fear in Joel’s eyes—the kind of fear she hadn’t seen since the days they fought to survive together.

Joel exhaled, his voice softer now but broken, each word trembling on the edge of his guilt and his need to protect her.

“I can’t risk you, Ellie. Not you. You stay here, with Tommy and Maria. I need you to be safe, I need you to be somewhere I know you won’t get hurt. If anything happens to you, I... I can't forgive myself. I can't lose you too, not after everything.” His words faltered, but they were laced with the kind of agony that made Ellie’s heart twist.

He took a step forward, his rough hand reaching out, but Ellie pulled back slightly, her face hardening again, though there was now a flicker of something else—something like fear.

"Tommy," Joel turned to his brother, his voice quieter now, as if every word was scraping at his throat, "keep her safe. If I... if I don’t make it back—”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Ellie’s voice was sharp again, her hands curling into fists. “You are coming back, Joel. Don’t give me this bullshit! You always come back to me!”

Joel looked at her, his expression full of something heavy and unspeakable. He took another step closer, and this time, when he reached for her, Ellie didn’t pull away.

“Listen to me, kiddo.” His voice was rough but tender, the words thick with a sorrow that Ellie had never heard before.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leavin’ you, for not bein’ the dad you needed. I know I’ve failed you in a lot of ways. But if something happens to me… if I don’t come back, you need to promise me somethin'. Don’t... don’t blame yourself. Don’t blame anyone. You need to keep going."

Ellie’s throat tightened, her breath coming out shaky. She shook her head. “No. No. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie,” Joel said, his voice cracking like a dam under too much pressure. “But this man—he’s dangerous. And I... I have to protect her. I have to protect you. And if I don’t—if I can’t, I need you to live. I need you to keep going.”

Ellie’s hands clenched tighter, and she felt the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. Her vision blurred, her heart hammering against her ribs. "You don’t get to do this," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You come back. You have to come back."

Joel cupped her face in his calloused hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears she didn’t realize had fallen. “I’ll try, kiddo. I swear. But if I don’t…” His voice broke completely, filled with the raw pain of a man who had lost too much. "If I don’t make it... I need you to be okay.”

The room felt suffocating, the gravity of the moment pulling them both into an abyss of uncertainty, where words like “promise” and “safe” were fragile, almost meaningless.

Ellie pressed her forehead against his chest, her fists clenching his shirt as if holding him tighter could stop the inevitable. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

"Don't leave me, Joel."

Joel’s heart shattered into pieces in that moment, but he couldn’t show it. He couldn’t let her see just how terrified he was, how the thought of leaving her again felt like a death sentence. “I'm sorry,”

Her tears soaked into his shirt, silent but heavy, each drop a reminder of how much he had already failed her—and how much more he stood to lose.

Joel swallowed thickly, his grip on her tightening for a moment longer before he finally let go, stepping back. “I love you, kiddo. More than you’ll ever know.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of the kind of fear Joel wished he could take away. But he couldn’t. He could only hope that this wasn’t goodbye.

***

You don’t know where you are anymore. The days and nights blur together in the darkness, the air thick with the stench of rot and decay. It’s been weeks—maybe more, maybe less. Time doesn’t exist here. All you know is the basement—the cold, damp stone pressing into your skin, the stinging scent of mold in your nose, and the unbearable silence, only broken by the occasional scrape of his footsteps above. Negan.

He’s the one who took you.

You barely knew him, barely interacted with him. So why you? Why now? What had you ever done to catch his attention? The questions buzz around in your head like a swarm of wasps, painful and without answers.

The walls seem to close in on you, the darkness thickening with every second. And then you remember—Negan had come to your house once, a visitor to your father. He was "Mr. Smith," you remember his last name.

But you didn’t think anything of it then. Just another face, another stranger. But since that moment, he had been watching you.

Negan had stalked your every move, following you through the shadows like a predator sizing up its prey.

When he visits, he talks. Always talks. As if the sound of his own voice fills the silence. "You and that ol' man of yours... too busy wrapped up in your own little world, huh?" He chuckles, the sound rough and mocking. “Joel’s a damn fool. Thinkin’ he could protect you, thinkin’ he could keep you safe. Hell, he’s worse than I thought, fallin’ for a broken little thing like you.”

His words cut like shards of glass, and each time you hear them, they reopen wounds you’ve tried to keep hidden deep inside.

Negan paces the room, his boots echoing in the small space. “Joel thinks he’s clever, doesn’t he? Killin’ Ben and Jamie to keep you all for himself.” He laughs, dark and low, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the basement. “He’s too damn stupid to see what’s right in front of him. Me.”

The way he says it, the way his eyes linger on you, makes your skin crawl.

“He let his guard down,” Negan continues, crouching beside you. “And when he finally let you out of his sight? Well, sweetheart, that just made things a hell of a lot easier for me.”

You want to scream, to lash out, but you’ve barely eaten in days, and your body feels too weak to even stand. The cold stone beneath you feels like a cage, holding you captive as much as Negan’s gaze does.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

Negan tilts his head, a cruel smile pulling at his lips. “Want? Sweetheart, I don’t want anything from you.” He leans in, close enough that you can smell the stale scent of smoke and leather clinging to him. “I just want you. That’s it. You’re mine now.”

The bile rises in your throat at the possessiveness in his voice, the certainty in his eyes.

For the past few weeks, he’s tried to feed you, bringing down food that you refused to touch. You’d rather starve than accept anything from him. Negan would sigh and shake his head, annoyed but patient. "You need to eat, darling. Can’t have you wastin’ away on me."

His words feel wrong, as if there's something hidden beneath them, something dark that you can’t quite put your finger on. There's always a certain gleam in his eyes when he brings the food—like he’s savoring a secret that only he knows.

And then there’s the smell.

That unbearable, suffocating stench that lingers in the corners of the basement. It smells like death. Like something rotting. But when you ask him about it, Negan just laughs. "Basements get like that," he says with a shrug, but the way he says it, so casual, so dismissive—it only makes you more certain that something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Sometimes, when the hunger gnaws at your insides, you almost consider taking a bite, but something deep inside you tells you not to trust it. Not to trust him. You’d rather die here, in the dark, than give him what he wants.

Negan crouches in front of you now, holding out a plate of food, his voice deceptively gentle. “You need to eat, darling. Can’t have you all weak and broken. I like my girls strong. Healthy.”

His words send a chill down your spine, and though you don’t know why yet, you can feel it—the creeping horror hiding just beneath the surface. There’s something wrong with the food, with him. Something monstrous, lurking in the shadows of his every word.

But what?

You swallow hard, shaking your head again, refusing the meal he offers. Negan’s smile tightens, but he doesn’t push. He never pushes. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he rises to his feet, looking down at you with that same dark amusement, like he’s playing a game only he knows the rules to.

“You’ll come around, sweetheart. One way or another.”

As he leaves, you’re left in the dark, your mind spinning, haunted by the rotting smell and the quiet, nagging fear that whatever is happening here is far worse than you could ever imagine.

The cold seeps into your bones, chilling you from the inside out, but it’s not just the temperature. It’s the gnawing fear, the isolation, the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

You can’t stop thinking about Joel. Where is he? Is he safe? Are the cops after him like Negan hinted? The thought tightens in your chest, like a vice slowly crushing your heart. You can barely believe that Joel—your Joel—killed Ben and Jamie. But as much as it shocks you, a part of you understands. He did it to protect you, didn’t he? The idea brings a strange comfort, a warmth amid the cold. Joel, with his strong hands and quiet resolve, would do anything to keep you safe. You liked that. You needed that.

But then, guilt slithers in, twisting and coiling itself around your thoughts. He did it because of you. Because you’re the one who caused all this. Joel shouldn’t have to bear the weight of it all. He can’t be the one to carry the consequences of what’s happened. You wonder if you’ve become a burden, dragging him into this nightmare where death and destruction seem to follow you both like shadows.

You think about the way he used to look at you, the way his rough exterior would soften just for you. His voice, gravelly but so full of warmth, whispers in your memory. You miss him, desperately. His touch, his scent, the quiet strength of his presence. It’s like a piece of you has been torn away, leaving you raw and bleeding, open to every cruel word Negan speaks, every cold gust of air in this filthy basement.

At night, when the world is silent and the shadows stretch long, you imagine Joel’s arms around you, holding you close like he did so many times before. You imagine his breath against your ear, telling you everything would be alright. You wish it were true. You wish Joel were here, with his fierce protectiveness and the way he could shield you from the world, even when it seemed like everything was falling apart.

But you are alone. Alone in the dark with nothing but the echo of your thoughts and the suffocating weight of fear. You’re terrified—terrified to death, even. And it feels like no one will ever find you, like no one will ever know the hell you’re living in. The walls around you seem to close in, and the only thing that keeps you from falling apart is the image of Joel’s face in your mind, his voice a faint whisper in the endless night.

Still, the fear gnaws at you, a ravenous beast. It claws at your insides, making it hard to breathe. You are alone, helpless, and trapped. And yet, in the deepest part of you, there's still a small flicker of hope. It burns for Joel. For the possibility that he’s out there, somewhere, fighting to find you. Because if anyone could save you, it would be him.

Days blurred together in a hazy fog of fear and despair. You knew it was days because each morning, Negan would rouse you from the dark depths of sleep with a cold, menacing presence. He brought food—always meat, always raw and dripping with something that made your stomach churn. You could tell he could cook; the way he handled the food had a practiced ease, but you wanted nothing to do with it. Your heart raced as you shrank away, clutching your knees to your chest, desperate to be invisible.

Today, something shifted in him. His patience seemed to fray like an old rope, unraveling under the weight of his anger. “You can’t keep like this! You need to fucking eat!” he shouted, his voice reverberating in the tight confines of the basement like a thunderclap. The plate of meat he hurled at you missed, clattering harmlessly to the floor as you recoiled, your hands shaking, your body trembling with fear.

Negan had always been rough but strangely composed, treating you with a twisted kind of care. But now, his anger was a raging storm, and you were caught in its eye. He lunged forward, grabbing your face with a grip that felt like iron, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you fucking eat, huh?” The fury in his eyes burned, igniting a primal terror deep within you.

“Please, don’t hurt me! Don’t please!” You cried, the words spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer. But his grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy. “I need you to fucking eat!” The implication hung in the air, a dark cloud cloaked in menace, hinting at the horror that lay beneath his twisted motivations.

Then, with a sudden violent yank, he lifted you effortlessly and tossed you onto the lone mattress in the corner of the basement—the only semblance of comfort in this hellish nightmare. It was stained and worn, a grim reminder of all the other girls who had suffered here, and the air was thick with the stench of decay and desperation. “You need to be taught a lesson, huh?” he snarled, looming over you. “You want me to teach you to be obedient? Why don’t you fucking listen to me?”

Your heart raced as dread enveloped you like a suffocating shroud. You could feel the cold, hard reality of your situation settle over you, a weight that threatened to crush your spirit. “Please, don’t hurt me!” you whimpered, the words spilling out like blood from an open wound.

But Negan’s rage boiled over. He pinned you down, his strength overpowering you, leaving you helpless beneath him. A flash of pain erupted as his fist connected with your side, the blow landing like a hammer against glass, shattering the last remnants of your hope. “You should be grateful you’re still alive for weeks!” he growled, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Usually, the other girls only last a few days!”

Each word was a dagger, slicing into you, twisting deeper until you felt like you were drowning in despair. The room spun, and for a moment, you were lost in the chaos—a captive in a horror movie where the monster was all too real. You could see the flickering shadows dancing across the walls, and for a moment, you imagined they were the spirits of all the girls who had come before you, trapped in this wretched place, their cries echoing in your ears.

Every punch, every insult, was a cruel reminder of your fragility, a stark contrast to the flicker of resilience still fighting within you. You thought of Joel, of the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his spirit. You were more than this dark, stinking basement; you were more than Negan’s plaything. But as the blows rained down, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see the light again, or if you were destined to fade into the shadows like the countless others before you.

In the depths of your despair, you turned inward, seeking solace in the silent echoes of your own heart. You prayed to God, your words tumbling forth like leaves in a tempest, pleading for this torment to cease. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “make it stop.”

But even as you cried out, questions fluttered in your mind like lost sparrows seeking refuge in a storm. Why did this always happen to you? Why were you cursed to walk the valley of shadows, where joy seemed as elusive as a wisp of smoke? It felt as if you were trapped in a parable, a cautionary tale whispered through the ages, where the faithful suffered and the wicked thrived.

You thought of the heavens above, imagined them as vast and endless, a tapestry of stars woven with threads of hope. Yet here you were, a solitary figure lost in the darkness, drowning in a sea of sorrow, with the light of those distant stars barely flickering in your heart. Was this your cross to bear? A burden too heavy for a soul so young?

As Negan’s fists rained down, each blow felt like the hammer of judgment, and your spirit ached under the weight of your own unworthiness. You longed to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, to break free from the chains of misery that bound you, but the flames of suffering held you fast. The biblical tales of resilience echoed in your mind, but you struggled to see yourself as part of those stories—would you ever find your own promised land?

“Am I not worthy of grace?” you questioned the heavens, your heart breaking under the pressure of your own doubts. The walls of the basement closed in around you, suffocating you with their cold embrace, and you felt as if you were wandering in the wilderness, lost and alone, with only the faint whispers of angels to guide you. Would there be a miracle that pulled you from this abyss? Would there be a shepherd to lead you back to the light?

But with each passing moment, the weight of your prayers felt heavier, like a stone cast into a bottomless well. You wondered if your cries reached the throne of heaven, or if they were swallowed by the darkness that surrounded you. “Why, Lord?” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotion. “When will my soul find peace? Why must I suffer while others walk free?”

In that moment, as the pain throbbed through you like a pulsing heartbeat, you realized that perhaps your suffering was not in vain. Maybe the storm would pass, and in its wake, you would emerge transformed, a testament to resilience and strength. Perhaps you were not merely a victim, but a warrior cloaked in shadows, fighting for your own light.

And so, with every ragged breath, you held onto that flicker of hope, whispering your prayers into the void, trusting that somewhere beyond this darkness, there lay a promise of redemption—a divine plan waiting to be unveiled, just beyond the horizon of your pain.

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tintinn16 · 1 month ago

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what a cliffhanger😡 No, just kidding i love you 💜 Thanks for the monster chapter!

ps. loving the sassy reunion with Zee, the queen knows her place!

Closed Position: Week 5 (Rumba Part 4)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 25.2k (I know, I'm sorry!)

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter and Kat both being a menace, smut, fluff, and physical assault

Chapter Quote: “Use me, fucking destroy me, and put me out of my misery. Please.”

Dieter’s POV Early Saturday morning, I awoke from the best night’s sleep I’d had in some time. I laid there with my eyes closed, reveling in the soft citrus and plum scent that surrounded me as I snuggled against Kat’s warm body. I felt the need to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It was a vision that often danced behind my eyelids, but it never felt like this. It felt better than I could have ever imagined. The connection between us was indescribable. Sure, the release that came along with the sex was great, but it didn’t compare to the feelings and intimacy. I had never experienced anything like it before. It only further proved that this woman fucking owns me - mind, body, and soul. The scariest part is that I was willingly giving her all of myself. I didn’t second guess it. I knew I was falling hard and was suddenly open to dealing with any pain that might come from it. I wasn’t sure if it was growth, or if Kat just had that kind of effect on me.

Kat shifted in my arms, snuggling in closer with a content sigh. My eyes blinked open, now focusing on her relaxed face that was nearly nose to nose with mine. I took the time to study her features in a way I had never had the opportunity to until now. She had the faintest scar just under her left eyebrow, one small freckle on her cheek, and another on her nose. Her lips were full and pouty with a deep rosy color. They still looked a little puffy from the previous night’s exploits, which made me smile over the memory of the way they felt against mine. The sun was beginning to sneak through the gaps in the curtains, emphasizing the subtle copper undertones in the darker strands of her hair. I couldn’t help reaching to run my fingers through it, gently pulling the stray bits away from her cheeks.

A lazy smile slid across her lips at my touch, “I can feel you staring at me.”

The way her voice sounded gravelly from sleep was doing things to me. It was so fucking sexy.

“I’m sorry…I’ve told you, a work of art is meant to be appreciated. I can’t resist.”

Her thick lashes fluttered open, amber eyes focusing on me with a playful glint as she leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against mine before placing a firm kiss on my lips. She pulled away, laying her head back down as she reached to run her fingers through my hair. I grasped her arm, placing gentle kisses on the inside of her wrist before settling her hand between us. I reached toward her face, rubbing my thumb over her lips.

I couldn’t help smiling, “Your lips look swollen.”

She kissed my thumb, then smiled back. “Good. I guess I won’t need that plumping lip gloss after all.”

We both chuckled, before settling into a comfortable silence, taking each other in. Our eyes danced around each other’s faces as our hands began to glide over any bare skin they could reach. Kat’s fingers snaked around my neck, pulling me closer to her. I shifted, settling between her thighs. She wasted no time, wrapping her toned legs around my waist, hugging me tightly to her as she ran her fingertips through the scruff on my chin. My hand roamed the length of her body, feeling the softness of her skin against mine. We took turns placing soft kisses on each other's faces, noses rubbing together as we got lost in each other’s eyes. Kat gently sucked on my bottom lip. I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out as she smirked up at me.

“You’re so fucking perfect. You know that? You’ve absolutely ruined me for anyone else,” I mumbled against her mouth.

She let out a sultry laugh, her voice somehow lower as she spoke, “And I’m only getting started.”

I could feel myself getting hard as her warm center brushed against me, but oddly enough, I didn’t want to escalate things. I just wanted to be wrapped up in her - enjoying her touch, her smell, and her warmth.

Somewhere off in the distance, I could hear my phone going off. I sighed, raising my head to glance over at the clock on the nightstand.

“That’s probably my alarm.” My hand ran down the side of her body, giving her ass a firm squeeze, “I’m gonna go get us some breakfast. Get yourself a little more sleep while I’m gone, Ok?”

Kat pouted as I leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. She settled back into bed, hiking the duvet up to stick one leg out as she cocooned the rest of her body in the heavy bedding. I could see her eyes peeking out as I stood to go shower and get dressed. I couldn’t fight the urge to lightly run my fingertips down the bottom of her exposed foot as I walked by. Her toes curled as she jerked her foot away and let out a frustrated huff. I chuckled, exiting her room to go to mine.

After getting presentable, I threw on a hat and sunglasses and headed out the door. I remembered seeing a small diner a few blocks north that looked worth trying, so I set out in that direction. I was in a bit of a daze after the evening I spent with Kat. I had admittedly been laying it on thick the last few days, hoping that something would happen between us. By Wednesday, I was certain there was something there after the hair straightening incident. I hadn’t intended for that to turn into such an intimate moment. I felt like I was really pushing it with the light grazes along her neck, but she seemed to be responding positively to it. Her reaction only egged me on. I didn’t even try to avoid flirting with her after that.

I wanted her to know where I stood, if she was receptive to it. She definitely seemed to be later that afternoon as I playfully pulled her into my arms and began dancing with her to the song she had been singing along with. There was no doubt in my mind that if my phone hadn't rang, she would have kissed me. It figures that the call turned out to be about Alec, because of course that guy was still cock-blocking us from the other side of the country.

One of the highlights from our week was when we popped into the plant boutique. I half expected her to hate it, but she seemed to genuinely enjoy herself as she listened to me rambling and browsed the merchandise. We had a good laugh over the penis cactus, taking the opportunity to let loose and be ourselves more than usual. After our near kiss earlier in the day, the experience had my emotions all over the place. I loved that she was making an effort to be involved with one of my favorite hobbies. No one else had bothered to even try or cared to.

I was trying not to overdo it with her, but I couldn’t resist the casual touches as we moved through the shop. She seemed to reciprocate them by mussing my curls at one point and leaning into me as we stood staring at the shelves. Then there was the moment where I ran my fingers through her hair. She seemed to momentarily get lost in my touch, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling. When her eyes opened and met mine, I was breathless from what I saw there. I knew she was feeling this too. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how I was feeling right then, but I needed it to be on her terms. I needed her to want it too and I wasn’t fully convinced that she was willing yet. It was obvious that she was feeling something, but I couldn’t work out if she was ready to act on it.

Later that evening, we rehearsed on the terrace, eventually being met with rain. After we gave up and I got us some towels, we had another moment that honestly took me off guard. I was eager to get her dry and warm once I realized she was shivering, but I did not expect her to lean into me like she did. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my cheek against the side of her head. We were definitely edging into new territory in that moment. The tension between us was palpable. I could tell she was sensing it too as she seemed lost in thought, almost stuck - afraid to initiate things further, but also not wanting to end it. She eventually did though, pulling away to head to her room for the night. I was disappointed, but I knew she needed her space. I would give her as much as she needed.

That following morning, I had been lying in bed doing my morning scroll through social media when I got a message notification from Evan. He had forwarded me a post with the text “FYI”. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at first. All I could see was two people kissing from a distance, but then I clicked to view the post and swiped through the pictures. It was Alec and Lana. I felt my stomach drop. I was instantly worried about how this would affect Kat. At that point, I still didn’t know what had happened between them. I didn’t know if this would be a surprise or not. I was worried this would cause her to build that wall up between us again, but also, I was concerned that she would be hurt by it.

I was relieved to know that she knew about the two of them already. I could tell that she was hurt by the pictures, but she wasn’t letting it get to her. Luckily, it was our day to film the Dirty Dancing skit. I made it my mission to keep her laughing all day, making a complete fool of myself as we filmed.

The flirty atmosphere still seemed to thrive between us as the day went on, so much so that I didn’t even think about what I was doing when I kissed her on the forehead as we wrapped up filming. I tried to play it off as a friendly thank you but wasn’t sure if I succeeded. She seemed a bit stunned by it, causing me to worry that I took it too far. My worry faded when I caught sight of her after an attractive blonde had approached me about a date. She was watching the exchange, appearing to be anxious over our interaction. Once we were alone, I felt the need to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in anyone but her. I even went so far to say that she and Zee were the only women in my life. I didn’t know how to be any blunter about it without actually saying it. To further emphasize my point, I offered to take her to dinner that night. That seemed to smooth things over. Dinner went well, even though we did have to behave ourselves since eyes were on us.

Later that evening, she finally opened up to me about what happened with Alec. I honestly wasn’t shocked to learn she caught him cheating with Lana. I just wasn’t prepared for how she caught him cheating. I knew that had to be hard on her and I wished she would have confided in me sooner so that I could support her through it. However, I understood her need to process it. I was still the first person she had talked to about it, which made me feel good. I appreciated that she trusted me enough to confide in me like that.

The foot massage incident followed that conversation. I had to laugh about that now. I legitimately hadn’t intended to get her worked up the way I had. I just sort of noticed it happening as she talked to me. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it when she began to rub her thighs together. Curiosity got the best of me, so I started paying a little extra attention to a certain part of her foot that has been known to stimulate an orgasm for some people. I watched her cheeks flush as she squirmed under my gaze. I could see that her breathing was picking up as her muscles tensed. I was honestly shocked she hadn’t stopped me by that point. The moment her mouth fell open, I really thought she was going to let it happen, but then she jerked her foot away. I was amused by her trying to play it off and couldn’t help teasing her a bit.

The following day while I was at the studio rehearsing for SNL, Kat had gone to my dressing room to rest. I was happy she took me up on the offer because I could tell she wasn’t feeling the greatest, despite what she said. I had offered to come get her during our next break so we could rehearse the monologue. I wasn’t shocked to find her snoozing away on the couch. I sat on the edge next to her, briefly pausing to take in her sleeping form and admire how beautiful she looked. As I reached to shake her awake, she mumbled something in her sleep. I froze, hoping to hear more. I watched her lips turn to a pout. Something was clearly making her unhappy. I sat with my hand still extended, debating on how long I should wait. She snuggled against the blanket tucked around her as her pout faded to a small smile, then she mumbled something else. I could only make out two words, “Dieter” and “stay”. I thought my heart was going to explode at the realization that she was dreaming about me. Those two words gave me so much hope that she was feeling the same things as me. They were the driving force behind the way I handled things as the day progressed.

I was feeling further emboldened and wasn’t holding back by the time we all piled into the car to go to the blues club later that evening, not hesitating to pull Kat into my lap and hold her tight against me. Our faces were mere inches apart from each other the entire ride, which only increased the tension and spurred the innuendos between us. The heated glances continued to pass between us throughout dinner and I found that I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. She didn’t seem to mind, often leaning in to my touch or returning it in some way.

I was honestly shocked that we ended up on stage after dinner. Sure, I had been joking about getting her up there, but I never thought she would actually do it. I took full advantage of the moment and chose the songs strategically. I knew Kat tended to connect with music in a way most people probably didn’t. Honestly, we both do it. That became obvious to me early on as we planned out our dance routines. So, I knew the lyrics would get through to her and mean something. I could tell she had picked up on it, especially since she asked why I chose those songs. I ached to tell her how I was feeling, but this wasn’t the time or the place. I opted to keep my response vague but gave her enough to make her think. At that point, the only thing I could think about was getting her back to the hotel. I needed to be alone with her. My hope was that we might finally talk about things, given how the day had gone. However, I never expected it to go from zero to a hundred in an instant.

When we first started rehearsing after getting back to the hotel, it was obvious Kat wasn’t on top of her game. She seemed distracted. As we continued on, the atmosphere between us shifted. I had no doubt that she was willing to meet me halfway after seeing the way she was looking at me. Her touches had become more sensual as she closed the space between us to the point that there was none. I could tell she was hanging on by a thread and I knew I was probably pushing it to suggest that we keep dancing, but I wanted her to know that I was all in. I also wanted to make it clear that it was her decision. It always would be.

The moment she finally kissed me, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. It didn’t seem real. I had wanted it so badly for so long that I couldn't believe it was actually happening. I was set on keeping it soft and sweet so as not to overwhelm her, but then her hands dropped to the hem of my shirt and pulled it off. I was briefly stunned, shocked she was going there. I had to make sure it’s what she really wanted. I needed her to know that this meant something to me before we took it too far and ruined our friendship. The second she told me she was sure about it, I let go. I wanted to show her how I was feeling, to worship her like she deserved.

And worship her I did. I took it slowly. Learning how her body responded to my touch. She was so easy to read, eliciting quiet moans when I found the right spots. Her brows would pinch together in pleasure as she arched into me, seeking more. It was so fucking hard for me to keep it together so that I could take care of her. She had me on edge from the moment she kissed me, but I somehow managed.

I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had sex while sober. It had been a very long time, but I knew without a doubt that it hadn’t been like this. I didn’t feel the things I was feeling with her. I had never felt them with anyone. She had awoken something inside of me and brought me back to life. It was scary but also sort of freeing. It solidified the fact that I was irrevocably in love with her, and I knew I would do anything it took to keep her happy and safe.

After we finished, I suddenly felt vulnerable, retreating into myself and expecting the inevitable dismissive attitude that I typically get from people afterward. I braced myself, waiting for it, because I knew that it would crush me coming from her. I should have known better though. She’s not like the rest of them. She cares about me and made it perfectly obvious from the start. However, some emotional scars are harder to overcome - always screaming at me from the back of my mind. It would take time and a good person to condition me away from that way of thinking. I wanted that person to be her.

The relief I felt when she asked me to stay was indescribable. It caused a flood of new emotions that I didn’t really understand. I tried to unpack them in the moment, but I couldn’t. Instead, I shifted my focus to caring for her. I wanted to make sure she was OK after our time together. Then it kind of hit me, what she had mumbled in her sleep, “Dieter, stay.” I suddenly felt more connected to her, realizing that maybe she understood things more than I realized. She confirmed it as we talked afterward. Alec didn’t stick around after either. It pissed me off, and further stoked my need to take care of her. I needed to show her that she deserved more, and I would happily give her everything. Even if that meant opening myself up to the things I was afraid of.

As I walked through the door of the diner, I wondered how this would go when we got back to LA. I wondered if she would want to be open about us or keep it on the down low for a time because of everything we were already dealing with. As I sat filling out my order ticket, I decided to suggest that we keep it quiet for a while. Mostly for her safety because I was concerned about Alec. He may not even care now that he’s moved on, but I didn’t want to chance it.

I handed my ticket to the lady at the counter, and she added it to the queue. It only took minutes for the food to be ready since it was all pre-prepared. I was a little shocked when she handed me three bags. It was enough to feed at least four people. I had been completely zoned out as I filled in the ticket, I couldn’t even remember what I ordered. I knew Kat was going to give me a hard time over it for being a little extra.

When I got back to the suite, I could hear the sound of the shower running. After setting the food down, I walked toward Kat’s room. She had left the doors to the bedroom and bathroom wide open. I smiled to myself knowing that she would never have done that before last night. As I got closer to the bathroom, I could hear her humming a tune to herself. Steam filled the room, fogging up the glass, but I could still make out her form as she ran her hands through her hair.

“I’m back with food,” I called out to her.

“Mmm, my hero. I’m starving. I’ll be out soon…almost done.”

I sighed, “Don’t make noises like that or I’m liable to jump in there with you, clothes and all.”

She giggled, “If we had time for it, I’d totally let you.”

I groaned, “Don’t be a tease…”

She scoffed, feigning offense, “I would never do such a thing.”

“Somehow I doubt that…” I said through a chuckle as I turned to make my way to the dining table to unpack our breakfast. Kat came out to join me just as I was finishing up. She was wearing a bathrobe and towel drying her hair as she surveyed the spread.

Her eyes widened as she let out a breathy laugh, “Dieter, what the hell?”

I shrugged and plopped down in a chair with a smirk, “I didn’t realize how much food I was actually getting, OK? It just kind of happened…but to be fair, the portions they gave me are not for two people. I said two, not five.”

She sat down beside me, shaking her head with a smirk as she piled food on a plate. We ate in silence, exchanging side-eyed glances and shy smiles. After I was finished, I slid my plate away and leaned back in the seat. Kat finished off her cup of coffee, then stood, coming to lean against the table in between my spread legs.

“I guess we should talk about…us…make sure we’re on the same page.”

My brows furrowed as my heart began to pound out of my chest. Does she not want this?

“What do ya mean?” I asked nervously.

She stepped forward, her hand gliding around my neck as she sat in my lap. Her eyes roamed my face, “I think…for now…we should keep this between us. I’m afraid Alec may try something if he finds out. There’s also Joe and Stacia…they wanted this to happen. I don’t want them to exploit it for the show. I refuse to let them. I want us to control the narrative.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “I can understand why you would want that…and I’m OK with it. I’ll follow your lead.”

Her forehead pressed against mine as she smiled, “I was worried you’d be upset about it.”

I shrugged and gave her a cheesy grin, “I mean, it’s not ideal…I’d really love it if everyone knew I was taken by an amazing woman...but I can wait until you’re ready. I’m yours no matter what.”

My smile faded, “I’d like to avoid drama with Alec as well since we have to put up with him for a bit longer. I worry about what he might do too... As far as Stacia and Joe go, they can fuck right off. I’m not playing their games.”

Her fingers twisted in my hair as she smiled at me, “Thank you for understanding. I do want everyone to know…eventually. I just want it to be on our terms. If it were to get out now, I feel like it would be chaos with all the hype around the show.”

I nodded, “I don’t disagree with that. Stacia and Joe would make sure of it…and we have enough to worry about as it is.”

She leaned in, giving me a quick kiss as I hugged her a little tighter against me. The moment was surreal, domesticated, and comforting. I wanted all of my mornings to like this, with her. My hand shifted to cup her cheek as her lips tugged upward, “You excited for tonight?”

I sucked in a heavy breath, “Umm, yes and no. I’m nervous as fuck.”

My fingers combed through her damp hair, “I’m happy you’re here with me though. I don’t know if I could’ve made it through this week without you.”

I tilted my head forward, giving her a soft kiss before pulling away, “Speaking of, we need to get going or we’re gonna be late for dress rehearsals.”

She shifted in my arms causing the front of her robe to fall open slightly, revealing the top curve of her breast. My hand dropped down so that my finger could tug the edge of it open a little more, pursing my lips as I playfully peaked inside, “We’re definitely gonna be late if you don’t go get dressed…like now.”

She laughed loudly, jokingly pushing my head away as she stood. I smacked her ass as she turned to walk toward the bedroom. She yelped out laughter as she went.

After much rushing around, we made it to Studio 8H just in time for dress rehearsals. Kat hung around to watch, seemingly amused every time I caught sight of her. When I had a free moment, I was at her side. We tried to act normally, but I’m not sure how much we succeeded. I couldn’t stop touching her. It wasn’t anything inappropriate, just small touches to her hand, arm, or lower back. I reasoned it wasn’t any different from what I would normally do. We were friends prior to this after all, and Kat didn’t seem to mind. The flirty smiles and intense stares were another story though. I had to watch myself with those.

The dress rehearsals finished around 1 PM. We had some time to kill, so Kat and I decided to sneak out for lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant. I threw on a hat and sunglasses, joking that I was in disguise even though that shit never works. Kat of course had to snap a picture for Instagram and make a joke about it in her post. After I saw it, I reached under the table and squeezed just above her knee, nearly making her dissolve into a fit of laughter which drew some confused stares from the nearby tables.

(More after the jump.)

After a long lunch, we made our way back to the studio so we could sit through hair and makeup. By the time that was done, we had a couple of hours before the first live audience show at 8 PM. Kat joined me in my dressing room and had the pleasure of watching me go through my pre-show warm-ups, which set her off into a giggling fit. The mouth stretches, tongue twisters, and lip trills in particular really got her going. Especially when I leaned in for a kiss and trilled against her mouth. She snorted out a laugh as she turned away from me, trying to contain her laughter.

Goofing off with her helped settle my nerves, keeping me focused on her rather than the task that lay ahead. Just for fun, I sat down on the leather sofa and pulled her down to straddle my lap so that she was face-to-face with me. I coaxed her to try some of the warmups, both of us giggling through it like fools every time she messed up a tongue twister or tried and failed to trill her lips. She never said it, but I could sense that she was nervous too. I felt like the distraction helped her just as much as it did for me.

Before we knew it, it was time to get dressed and make our way backstage for the first live audience show. I gave Kat a quick pep talk, before she disappeared to take her seat in the audience so she could roast me during my monologue. We nailed it, getting a good laugh from the audience. The rest of the show went as planned with no major fuck ups.

The minute the live audience show was over, the cast and producers convened to discuss any needed adjustments for the live broadcast and decide on the final order of the skits in the event something needed to be cut for time. Overall, everyone seemed to be feeling good about the plans and how the first round went.

Kat and I took a few minutes to chat and hang out with the cast. There were lots of other friends, family, and visitors milling around as there usually were before the live broadcast. The sight of one person in particular had me feeling anxious. Sophie West, an actress I had worked with several years ago, was across the room. Her eyes continuously searched for me as Kat and I socialized. I had never been interested in Sophie as anything other than an on-set hookup. It happened a few times after some late night cast parties, but once I realized she wanted more I avoided her like the plague.

We had just finished a conversation with Judy when the tiny redhead approached from nowhere to get my attention.

“Dieter, it’s so good to see you again! It’s been too long!”

My hand instinctively slid around Kat’s waist and pulled her closer, I’m sure she could feel how tense I was.

I nodded, “Sophie, nice to see you again.”

Her eyes briefly dropped to my hand on Kat’s waist before meeting Kat’s gaze and reaching out to shake her hand, “And I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. I’m Sophie, Dieter and I did a movie together a while back.”

Kat’s brow arched. She didn’t look amused, “I’m Katarina, Dieter’s dance partner.”

Sophie chuckled, “Oh that’s right, you're on that dance show.” She paused, smiling mischievously, “Dieter’s always been such a good dancer. We spent several late nights dancing at cast parties, among other things…”

My eyes widened as I looked at Kat. I could see her jaw clench before she forced a fake smile and a polite laugh, “He is a good dancer, even better so now that I’ve spent many long days and nights helping him perfect his technique…”

Her tone told me she wasn’t just talking about dancing in the literal sense. Fuck me. I didn’t see that coming. Kat’s not gonna take her shit. I had to bite back a laugh.

Sophie didn’t look impressed as she turned her attention back to me, “So, Dieter, you wanna get together after the show to celebrate? Just like old times?” She asked with a suggestive tone. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Sorry Soph, I don’t really do the party thing anymore. I’m sober. Also, Kat and I have a super early flight in the morning. So, we’ll be heading back to our hotel suite after the show.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly as she looked between us and nodded, seeming to finally take the hint. “Well, I’m back in LA most of the time now. Call me. We can grab dinner and catch up.”

Seriously? Give it up woman. I was beginning to get second-hand embarrassment for her. I gave her a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod before turning my attention to Kat, “You wanna go over our lines again? Looks like we have just enough time left to do that…”

Kat took the hint, laying her hand on my chest and she leaned in with a smirk, “Yeah, let’s go to your dressing room so we can focus.”

I could’ve kissed her right there in front of everyone, but refrained. That didn’t stop a heated look from passing between us though. Seeing her possessive side was making my dick twitch. Sophie seemed to get the hint at that point, awkwardly smiling before walking away.

Kat snickered, “That was subtle.”

I smiled sheepishly, “What do ya mean?”

She scoffed, “Our hotel suite?”

I laughed, “Oh, shush. You weren’t much better with that ‘perfecting his technique’ line. Besides, she wasn’t taking the hint. She’s been a little obsessed with me for years. I’m not tryin’ to give her mixed signals. Respectfully, she can fuck off.”

Kat chuckled as we made our way to my dressing room to get away from the crowds. I needed to decompress before the live broadcast and didn’t want to chance any more run-ins with Sophie. I also just wanted to be alone with Kat.

After we entered, I made sure to lock the door behind us, not wanting visitors. Kat plopped down on the sofa as I pulled my jeans off. She raised a questioning eyebrow as I sat down in front of the vanity.

I snickered, “I’m hot…I’m sorry. Figured you would’ve noticed by now that I hate pants.”

She stretched her legs out in front of her as she sunk back into the plush cushions, “Oh trust me, I’ve noticed.”

I started doing some of my warmups again, I could hear Kat giggling behind me as she snapped a few pictures in the mirror, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

(More after the jump.)

She smiled as she tapped away on her phone, I assumed to post the pictures on Instagram, “Oh, I am. This has been an experience.”

She dropped her phone down beside her, “I’m glad you asked me to come with you. I think we both needed this…to get away from LA and everything that comes with it.”

I turned to face her, “Do you think this would have happened between us if we hadn't come here?”

She thought for a moment, “Yes, I think it would’ve…but maybe not as soon?”

I smiled, “Thank god you agreed to come…or else I may have spontaneously combusted if I had to wait for you much longer.”

There was a knock on the door followed by the voice of one of the producers, “Dieter…just a heads up…we need you guys ready to go and backstage in 30.”

I sighed before yelling back “We’ll be there.”

My eyes met Kat’s, “You ready to do this on a live broadcast?”

She groaned, “Why did you remind me?”

Minutes later, I began getting dressed in my monologue attire. Kat wasn’t a fan of the bright yellow pants, but she didn’t seem to mind the blue blazer with nothing underneath it. I noticed how her eyes kept drifting down to the exposed skin of my neck and chest.

As I stood in front of the vanity, fiddling with my hair, Kat approached and squeezed into the space between me and the countertop. She leaned forward, applying more lipstick as she pressed her ass against my dick, slightly swaying her hips from side to side as her eyes met mine in the mirror. My hands sought out the globes of her ass to pause her movements, “Are you tryin’ to get me hard before I go on live TV?” She feigned a look of innocence. I laughed, “You’re a fucking menace…which I did not expect.”

I reached down to the hem of her dress, running my hand up the inside of her thigh, but she smacked it away, “No sir. You can have me after the show…when we go back to our hotel suite.” She paused, then wiggled her ass again, “I wanna take my time with you.”

I groaned, then away from her as I muttered, “Fucking tease.”

She turned to face me with a playful glint in her eye as she booped my nose, “You have no idea, Bravo.”

Before we knew it, we were making our way backstage. Our nerves seemed a lot worse this time, knowing it was a live broadcast in addition to the live audience. Kat and I stood facing each other as I grabbed her hands and playfully shook her arms, “Loosen up, Kit Kat. You’ve got this. We’re gonna be hilarious! The people love us!”

She laughed as I pulled her in for a tight hug and leaned in next to her ear, “Just think of me naked and you’ll forget all about the nerves.”

She laughed louder this time, “Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. Though, your lack of a shirt definitely makes that easier to do.”

I winked at her, “Good, that means my plan is working.”

A production assistant approached us, “Kat, it’s time for you to take your seat.”

She nodded and smiled at me as she gave my hand a squeeze, “Good luck, Bravo.”

I took my place behind the double doors that led to the stage. At exactly 11:29 PM the weekend update skit began, then the first note was played by the house band as the announcer went through the opening credits. I took this time to shake off my nerves to the beat of the music until my name was called to take center stage for the monologue. I just needed to keep my shit together and focus for the next 92 minutes.

I went through the usual spiel of welcoming everyone to the show and promising an excellent lineup. Then it was my time to shine in endless self-deprecating humor.

“I’m Dieter Bravo, I’ll be your host for tonight. Some of you may recognize me from my endless tabloid drama, rumors of on-set chaos, or the completely unhinged interviews I’ve done in the past. For the movie buffs, you may know me from my Oscar winning role in Hunger Strike. I know, it was a while ago…but I’m still an Oscar winner…so suck it, Darren Eigen.” (Darren Eigen is the Director for Cliff Beasts 6)

That got a good laugh from the audience. I paused briefly allowing them to settle, then clapped my hands together to draw back their attention.

“Speaking of Darren…my most recent movie role was in Cliff Beast 6, but I doubt any of you have seen me in it because…well…no one watched it.”

Quiet laughter followed as a voice from the audience interrupted me, “You definitely didn’t win an Oscar for that performance!”

My brow furrowed as I played along, “Excuse me?”

A spotlight dropped down on Kat as she stood from her seat which triggered whoops and whistles from the audience, “I said, you definitely didn’t win an Oscar for that. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. That’s two hours of my life I would love to have back. I can’t believe you would even admit to being in that atrocity.”

I laughed nervously, “Kat, what’re you doing? I said you could come watch, not provide commentary. You do that enough during dance rehearsals.”

She shrugged. “Sorry, it’s a habit. I’ll try to behave.”

I nodded, giving her a look of annoyance, “Sorry about that everyone. That’s my dance partner…which brings me to my current project…I’m participating on a little show called Dancing with the Stars. You heard of it?”

More appreciation sounded from the audience. I nodded along with a smile, waiting for them to settle. “You know, I’ll admit, I was nervous about that one. I’m not exactly a spry young thing anymore, but I like to think I’ve always been a decent dancer. I was pretty excited to hear my partner say that I had loose hips, which would serve me well in the Latin dances. I guess my mind-blowing thrust game finally paid off for something…if you know what I mean, ladies.” I shot a cocky grin and wink toward the camera.

Kat scoffed and cut in, “Don’t get too excited ladies…he may have loose hips, but he has no rhythm.”

The audience lost it. Kat was looking pretty smug over her remark. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fighting a smile as I waved the comment off. In a split second I decided to get her back for teasing me earlier. My eyes narrowed on her, my voice taking on a suggestive tone, “Now sweetheart, you know that’s not true.”

That wasn’t the line she was expecting. Her eyes widened as gasps, whoops, and catcalls sounded through the audience. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she shifted in place where she was standing. I was almost certain she was pressing her thighs together under that flowy dress. I held up my hands, shushing the audience, “Hold on now, get your minds outta the gutter. I’m talking about dancing here…you bunch of pervs. Geez Louise.”

That got another good laugh out of them as Kat narrowed her eyes at me. I made it through the last bit of the monologue with perfect timing and delivery. The show seemed to be starting off perfectly.

The Dirty Dancing skit went over well. The final product had turned out more hilarious than we originally expected. I managed to keep it together through most of the live skits, only breaking once. Overall, I felt like the show had been a success as I ran out to do the closing credits. Kat was at my side, my fingers laced with hers as I said my ‘thank yous’ to the cast and crew for inviting me to host.

I let go of her hand and pulled her into my side, “Special thanks to my Kit Kat for suffering through this week with me! This wouldn’t have been possible without her.”

I glanced down to see her face flush, then wrapped things up. The cast began mingling and hugging as they often did while the credits rolled. I pulled Kat in against me as she wrapped her arms around my neck, “Dieter, you were amazing.”

I chuckled against her ear, “Yeah? Did I get you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?”

She pulled back, peering up at me through her lashes with a smirk. She nodded. “Yeah?” I asked with amusement. She nodded again. I leaned back down next to her ear, “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

She chuckled, “Why don’t you take me back to the hotel and find out.”

Little Bravo stood to attention as I let out a breathy laugh, “Fucking hell, woman.”

We were interrupted by Judy who ran over to hug us both. The rest of the cast and crew soon followed. We hung around for as long as we felt was socially acceptable before giving the excuse of our early flight and headed out.

The sexual tension during the ride back to the hotel was stifling. We were trying our best to behave, but that didn’t stop us from sitting close together and sharing teasing touches while avoiding eye contact. Kat rested her hand on my thigh, slowly inching it higher with gentle caresses. I captured her hand with mine, causing her eyes to cut in my direction and narrow as I tried not to smirk. After flipping her palm upward, I set it on my leg to lightly rub up the inside of her wrist with my fingertips. I could feel her skin breaking out in goosebumps as she pressed her thighs together. She turned toward the window, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she let out a controlled breath through her nose. I could tell she was getting worked up. It was too easy to read her now.

Once back at the hotel, we entered the elevator. A small group followed us in, crowding us into a back corner. Kat took it upon herself to stand in front of me, pressing her ass into my groin as she leaned back against me. My hands gripped her hips, pulling her tighter against my hardness as we waited to reach our floor. We were the last ones left after a couple of stops. As soon as the door closed behind the last of the exiting occupants, my palm slid up the back of her neck, lifting her hair out of the way to place open mouthed kisses along the newly exposed skin.

“Mmm, you’re playing dirty now,” she purred.

My lips moved toward the curve of her ear, chuckling quietly as I sucked on the lobe. She melted into my embrace just as the elevator doors dinged open. She moved to exit, my hands reaching for her hips as I stumbled along behind her. She was fighting a smile, pretending to ignore me as she keyed in. She peered at me over her shoulder, giving me a sly smirk as she removed her jacket and walked toward her room. I took the hint, following behind her like the lovesick puppy that I was. She moved to stand in front of the dresser mirror, removing her earrings as I approached her from behind, pulling her against my chest and nuzzling my nose into her neck. I didn’t hesitate to deeply inhale her scent, not even caring if she knew what I was doing. It was like a drug to me now, causing me to salivate at the thought of tasting her again.

Our gazes connected in the mirror as my lips trailed up to her jaw. Kat suddenly turned, her mouth crashing against mine for a deep sensual kiss as she worked to remove my boxers and jeans. We broke apart only long enough for me to kick them off. Her hands found their way to my chest, pushing me backwards onto the bed. She stood between my spread thighs, smiling down at me as her fingers ran through the top of my hair. My hands found the hem of her dress, sliding under and up to grab at her ass. I arched a brow as my eyes shifted upward to meet hers when my fingers were not met with any fabric. Her smile widened.

I chuckled quietly and shook my head, “I can already tell, you’re gonna drive me insane, aren’t ya sweetheart?”

She moved closer, lifting her legs to straddle my lap. Both of my hands slid up her bare thighs to grip her ass and pull her closer. Our noses nudged together as she rolled her hips against my hardness, “You have no idea what I’m about to do to you, Bravo.”

My forehead fell forward against hers. I couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out. Her assertive confidence was so fucking hot I could have blown my load right then. Her tongue darted out, lightly licking up the center of my mouth before sucking on my bottom lip as her right hand snaked downward between us, cupping and gently squeezing my balls before rolling her fingertips in a wave like motion. My head dropped backwards, mouth falling open with a low groan at the sensation. That’s definitely something new. My head lulled forward, blurry eyes taking in the look on her face. Her eyelids were heavy, teeth biting into her bottom lip as she fought a smile. I could tell she was on a mission to completely wreck me, and it was working.

Her brow arched slightly. “You like that?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Mmhmm,” I managed to hum out as I shook my head.

She leaned in and smiled against my lips as she began to rock her hips, still managing to massage my balls as her slick center slid backward and forward over my fully erect cock. My eyes nearly rolled back into my head as the tip repeatedly grazed her entrance with each movement.

My head tipped forward to lean against her shoulder as a low “Fuuuuuck” slipped out of my mouth.

Kat let out a quiet snicker, “You like that too?”

Her voice sounded sultry in a way I had never heard it. I somehow managed to whine out an incoherent sound in response, not even sure what I was actually attempting to say. Her free hand moved to the back of my head, tangling her fingers in my hair to pull it upward, tilting it so that her lips found my ear, sucking on the lobe briefly before whispering, “You gonna be a good boy and let me have my way with you tonight?”

My fingers gripped her ass tighter, causing the rocking of her hips to cease. I was so close to losing it before we had even gotten started. I needed her to slow down. She was pushing my buttons in new ways that I was nowhere near prepared for and I was about to lose my fucking mind. She was invading all of my senses - her touch, the taste of her skin, her fruity scent, the sultry sound of her voice, her words, the feel of her hot breath and wet cunt all overstimulating me like never before. I could tell she was enjoying herself from the way she had completely drenched my dick with her slick, which definitely wasn’t helping the situation. I took a deep centering breath and let it out slowly as she pulled back to look at me with arched brows and a smile.

I somehow managed to sputter out, “You can have me any way you want me, honey.”

A mischievous grin slid across her face, her hands resting on my shoulders for support as she shifted to stand between my thighs. Her hands reached down to pull my shirt over my head before she leaned in to kiss me deeply as she sank to her knees in front of me. Her hands got back to work, one around my cock while the other resumed the thing she had been doing with my balls. She leaned down, licking up the underside of the head before taking the tip in her mouth and sucking. Of fuuuuck, she’s gonna be the end of me.

I leaned backward, placing my hands on the bed behind me for support. My eyes slid shut from pleasure as my head dropped back between my shoulder blades. I couldn’t look at her. I knew the sight of it would be too much and cause me to fall over the edge. It was taking everything in me to fight off my impending orgasm as it was. I could feel that familiar tingling sensation creeping up at the base of my spine as my core muscles tightened. My breathing elevated as a sheen of sweat broke out over my entire body. I didn’t even try to fight the whimpering moans slipping out between my lips as she worked me over with her mouth. I somehow managed to crack my eyes open, only to be met with our reflections in the metallic ceiling tiles. I looked completely wrecked already. My focus shifted to Kat’s head bobbing between my thighs, and I nearly lost it. My right hand reached down, gently caressing her hair to get her to stop. She pulled away, peering up at me with wide eyes through her lashes.

“Sweetheart, you’re about to make me lose it before I’ve even had you.”

A rather smug smile formed on her lips as she moved to stand up on her knees and wrap her arms around my neck, kissing me gently.

“Tell me what you like. How do you want me?” she asked against my lips in a velvety voice. She was so fucking sexy and she wasn’t even really trying.

I gave her a small smile and chuckled, “I’m not very hard to please. Your mere existence is enough to send me over the edge these days.”

She arched her brow, “That’s not very helpful.”

I was feeling a little hesitant with her, sexually. I had a history of being adventurous in that aspect of my life, but something told me that wasn’t the case for her. It wasn't something that I needed to be satisfied. I was perfectly content going at her pace and letting her lead things. However, she seemed to sense my hesitancy.

Her eyes softened as she reached up to run her fingers through the hair at my temple, “I trust you, ya know. You make me feel…differently…when it comes to this. I know you’ll respect me. I want us to be able to communicate openly about what we’re feeling…and wanting. I’ve never felt safe enough to be like that with anyone until now.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding as my hands moved to her hips and pulled her closer to me. A smile crept across my face as I studied her eyes. She looked determined. I could tell she meant every word she said which caused a warmth to spread over my entire body. I suddenly felt the need to lay myself open bare so she could take anything she wanted. If I hadn't already known that I was completely in love with her, it would have hit me like a ton of bricks at that moment. She was being open and vulnerable with me, and suddenly I was no longer afraid to do the same.

“I don’t think anyone has ever asked me what I wanted…” I leaned forward, nuzzling my nose against her, debating on how far I should take things - how much I wanted to say.

“Truth be told…the only answer I can give…is you. I only want you…as much as you’re willing to give me…and I want you to have all of me. I’m yours.”

The air felt thick around us as she considered my words. I wasn’t just talking about sex. She owned every part of my being, and I wanted her to understand that. I wanted to tell her everything, but it was too soon. This was my way of saying it without actually saying it.

I felt her grip tighten in my hair as she closed the distance between us. The need between us intensified as our tongues tangled together and hands explored each other. Her mouth drifted down my jaw, teeth biting at the scruff before moving upward. That action alone had my dick at full attention and weeping for her.

“Have you been thinking about me when you’re alone?” Kat asked quietly into the shell of my ear.

I sighed, “Mmhmm.” I couldn’t help squirming against her abdomen for some type of friction against my raging hard-on as she licked up my neck. She murmured quietly, “What do you think about?” before tugging the lobe of my ear between her teeth.

I whimpered, struggling for a coherent thought as her fingers danced over my chest. My hands found the globes of her ass, squeezing to pull her tighter against me.

She nipped at my neck, “Answer me, Dieter.”

Seeing this side of her had my head spinning, I wanted more. My hands trailed up and down her sides as her lips continued to explore my jaw. I sputtered out a response, “I think about your body…and the way it moves…especially your hips…the control that you have over every muscle…the control that you have over…me.”

She pulled away, eyes meeting mine with a mischievous glint in them, “What else?”

I suddenly felt shy under her gaze. I couldn’t recall ever sharing these types of desires with anyone before. I was terrified she would be bothered by the way I had been thinking about her. Her hand moved to cup my face, “Tell me.”

“I tried to imagine what it would be like to have you moving the way you do on top of me…how it would feel…what sort of sounds you would make...”

She smirked, placing a chaste kiss on my lips before whispering, “Then let's find out. Lay on the bed for me.”

She pulled away to stand. I sat there a little dumbfounded with my mouth gaping open. It wasn’t like it was a crazy ask, but the thought of my fantasy coming to life nearly had me coming without even being touched.

Kat paused in front of me, staring with raised brows and her hands on her hips. Once my senses finally came back to me and I was sure I wasn't going to blow my load, I scrambled up to lay in the center of the bed. She chuckled, turning her back to me as she unzipped her dress. My hand involuntarily made its way down to stroke my cock as I watched her slide the straps off her shoulders. Her head turned so that she could glance at me over her shoulder, “I don’t remember telling you that you could touch yourself.”

I let out a nervous laugh, sliding my hands down to rest on either side of my hips while I waited for her. I was so fucking turned on by the way she was taking charge. She seemed to understand what I needed better than I did.

I watched as her dress slid down her body and pooled around her feet, revealing her to me. She hadn’t worn anything underneath it which only further spurred my need. My entire body was aching for her by this point.

She slowly crawled up the bed, trailing gentle touches and kisses along the way. Allowing her hair to lightly graze over my skin, sending shivers up my body. As she straddled my hips, she ran her hands up my chest, then drug her nails downward. With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she began to rotate her hips, rubbing her wet center against my hardness. My breath caught in my throat as she peered down at me with darkened eyes. She was so fucking beautiful like this that it had me frozen in place. My hands were still at my sides, fisting the sheets.

Her hand slid up the center of my chest then grasped firmly under my jaw, angling my face toward her as she leaned down to place an opened mouthed kiss on my lips before asking, “You wanna know what I think about when I’m alone?” All I could muster in response to her honeyed voice was a small nod as I looked up at her with wide eyes. I was completely dumb struck by her while also trying to focus on not coming all over myself.

That mischievous smirk was back on her face as she sat upright. Her hands moved to trace a path along her neck and breast as her body began slow undulations above me - her center absolutely drenching me with every twist of her hips. It had to be the sexiest thing I had ever laid eyes on.

She began to massage her breast, her smirk fading to a more sensual look as she continued, “I wondered what your hands would feel like gliding across my skin. I tried to pretend my hands were yours as I touched myself…but it was never satisfying enough.”

Her hands dropped down to mine, loosening their grip on the sheets and lifting them to guide their movements across her body. I was completely mesmerized by the sight as she let out a soft moan. “Definitely doesn’t compare to the real thing,” she added in a whisper.

Kat continued writhing on top of me as she showed me the way she liked to be touched, adding pressure to the tops of my hands and guiding them to knead her flesh in certain areas. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming. I had never experienced anything like this. The trust she had in me to share this side of herself was causing me to feel emotions that were almost foreign.

She released my hands, allowing them to explore on their own as she briefly rose up on her knees, notching my throbbing head at her entrance and slowly sinking down to the hilt. My jaw fell slack as her wet heat enveloped me. I felt like my chest was going to explode as my eyes pooled with tears from the pure ecstasy I was feeling. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from professing my deepest feelings for her. I couldn’t tell her that I was in love with her. It was still too soon for that, but I felt it just the same.

My hands gripped her hips as she leaned back to support herself on my thighs and began agonizingly slow movements, rolling her torso and hips as she rode me with abandon - giving me a show and the most amazing pleasure I had ever felt. I should have been embarrassed by the sounds I was making. It was guttural groans mixed with pathetic whimpers and near sobs as I fought the urge to come. Her soft hums of pleasure and intense gaze definitely didn’t help my situation any.

She must have sensed my impending release, slowing her movements to lean forward and plant her hands on my chest for support to give me some time to come back from the edge. My spine tingled and cock throbbed inside of her as I let out a steady chant of curse words trying to focus on anything but the goddess sitting on top of me. I stared at the mirrored ceiling, realizing how absolutely wrecked I looked. She chuckled, gently rubbing her hands over my chest as she took in my fucked out expression.

After a few deep breaths, my eyes shifted back to her. Her body looked dewy with sweat and flushed with arousal as she stared down at me. The sight of her had my balls aching for release. I couldn’t help the lazy grin that spread across my face as I reached up to cup her cheek, “You’re so fucking beautiful and perfect.”

She leaned into my touch, smiling at the praise.

“You’ve absolutely wrecked me, sweetheart. I don’t know how much longer I can last seeing you like this. I need you to come…I need to see it…to feel it. Use me, fucking destroy me, and put me out of my misery. Please.”

Her smile widened, “Be careful what you wish for, Bravo.”

Leaning on my chest, she began to slowly lift herself until only the head remained inside of her. Her cunt clenching as she did so, squeezing me so fucking tight as she rolled her hips. After relaxing, she quickly sunk back down to the hilt, only to repeat the movements - over and over again. It was a new sensation that I thought might actually end me where I lay.

Each time she clenched around me, it took everything I had not to explode. My head sunk back into the pillow as I slammed my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the way she felt. My jaw clenched as I fought to control my heaving breaths and the urge to rut into her. I was absolutely unraveling underneath her control, and she loved every second of it. My grip on her hips tightened, stilling her movements. I could feel the sweat trickling down my face as my mouth fell open, gasping for air. I couldn’t look at her, because if I did, I was done.

Kat’s fingers trailed down my chest. “You doing ok?” she asked innocently.

I nodded, still panting, “Yep…just need…a minute.”

I could feel her eyes on me. Her tone told me she had a satisfied grin on her face as she watched me try to keep it together for her. After calming down some, I tilted my head to look at her. Our gazes locked as I guided her hips to rock against me, “I need for you to come. Please.”

My voice was pleading. I really couldn’t hold on much longer and she knew it. She began grinding against me, her clit rubbing against the wiry hair at the base of my cock. It didn’t take long before I felt her walls fluttering around me, her release slowly building. Her eyes never left mine as her body began to tremble before finally tensing. As her mouth fell open, I sat up, pulling her to me with one arm while bracing myself with the other on the mattress behind me, allowing me to snap my hips up into hers. She collapsed with muffled moans against my neck as I drew out her release and finally crashed over the edge with her. A low growl ripped from my chest as I came hard inside of her. The growl turned to whimpers as my body began to shake from the release. I fell backward to the bed pulling her to lay against my chest, not saying a word for a while as we tried to settle our breathing and heart rates.

After a few minutes passed, my arms snaked around her waist so that I could shift us both to our sides. I made a point to pull her closer against me, making sure she knew that I was here for her. Something about that moment felt vulnerable. Not just for me, but for her too. Neither of us were used to having this after. For the first time, it really hit me how much I had been craving her intimacy. Not just taking but giving too.

My face nuzzled against the top of her hair, inhaling her scent as my hand trailed up and down her body. She hugged me a little tighter and sighed contentedly against my neck.

I massaged at her hip, “Everything feeling ok? You didn’t overdo it I hope.”

She chuckled, tilting her head back to look at me, “I’m good. Are you?”

A dopy lopsided grin spread across my face as I reached to rub my fingertips along the curve of her jaw, “I am now…I don’t think you realize the effect you have on me. I’ve never experienced anything like this…like you.”

Her cheeks reddened at my words as she tried to bury her face against the pillow. I snickered, “Don’t go getting shy on me now, because I know that’s a lie…you little sex kitten.”

Her eyes widened at the comment as I took a moment to realize what I had actually said, “Oooooh, looks like you’ve got a new nickname…and you’ve earned this one.”

She snorted, “Fucking hell, I guess I did walk into that one.”

I leaned down with a mischievous smile and pressed my forehead against hers, “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret. I’ll only call you that when I’m horny.”

She laughed, “That’s all the time.”

I scoffed, “It is not. How would you know?”

Her fingers combed through my hair, “I’ve learned to read you like an open book this week.”

My nose grazed along hers, “It’s not all the time, but you do have a way of driving me insane without even trying. I mean it, you’ve ruined me for anyone else. I crave you…your presence…your touch. I’d be eternally happy only having those things. The mind blowing sex is just a bonus.”

She smiled against my lips before wrapping her leg around mine and kissing me. We went on like that for a few minutes until she finally pulled away with a sigh.

My brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed dramatically, “I really need to pee, but I don’t wanna leave you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I felt like my heart was going to explode over her words.

“I’m not going anywhere. Go…then we can get ready for bed.”

She groaned and rolled out of the bed, shivering slightly as she stood. She grabbed a robe that was thrown over a chair in the corner and put it on as she walked toward the bathroom. I too got up and threw on my underwear. After running to my room to get my toothbrush, I grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge. Kat was coming out of the bathroom just as I came back into the bedroom. She smiled as I offered her a bottle of water, leaning in to murmur a quiet “thank you” against my lips before giving me a chaste kiss. She took a long drink before digging around in her makeup bag and pulling out a hair tie.

I gave her ass a little pat as I moved to the bathroom and began brushing my teeth. She followed to do the same. It was an odd feeling to share the space with her while doing such a mundane task. I couldn’t really recall ever having brushed my teeth or gone through my bedtime routine with someone, let alone someone I had just had sex with. It was domestic and intimate in a strange sort of way. I found myself wanting more experiences like this with her.

I realized she was eyeing me in the mirror with a smirk. After spitting out a glob of toothpaste, her eyebrow arched, “What are you thinking so hard about?” Busted.

I shrugged, then spit. “I was just thinking…I’ve never done this with someone before.”

Her lips tugged upward, “What, brushed your teeth?”

I shook my head, “I’ve never gotten ready for bed with anyone. It feels…I dunno. I can’t really put it into words.” I want this every night for the rest of my life.

Her brows furrowed before she turned to rinse out her mouth. When she was finished, she peered at me with a soft gaze.

“It’s a good feeling though…right?” she asked.

I nodded, “Definitely.”

Her hand rose to rest on my chest, right on top of my fluttering heart. My hand instinctively moved to rest atop hers.

“Are you ok? Your heart is racing.” That explains the light headed feeling.

I swallowed thickly, then gave her a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just excited to be in your presence I guess.” I fucking love you.

She gave me a skeptical look as she turned to pick up her brush and comb it through her hair. Then, I watched her fingers work the long strands into a simple braid down her back, causing me to randomly have an urge to learn how to do that. She seemed to enjoy when I had fixed her hair earlier in the week, and oddly enough, it made me feel closer to her. I wanted more. You’re down bad, Bravo. So fucking bad.

My fingers reached for the braid and rubbed it between my fingertips. I smirked at the thought of being able to do that for her.

“Do you usually braid your hair for bed?” I asked.

She shrugged, “A lot of the time…or just a messy bun on top of my head, but that usually doesn’t end well the next morning.”

She pulled a makeup remover wipe from a package sitting on the sink and began wiping her face. I watched her for a beat, still soaking in her nighttime routine. I was fascinated by it for some reason. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror and she smiled. I leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head, “I’m gonna go attempt to fix the bed. I think I pulled the sheet off.”

She laughed, letting her free hand grope my ass as I walked out the doorway.

“Better watch that or else you might not get any sleep tonight, Kitten.”

I could hear her muttering something to herself as I moved toward the bed. I couldn’t help snickering because I knew it was over her new nickname.

I began pulling the pillows off the bed so that I could put the top half of the sheet back on the mattress properly. When I pulled up the pillow on the far side, it revealed something purple wedged between the mattress and headboard that caught my attention. I crawled across the bed to grab it. I nearly snorted when I realized what it was. Then it hit me, she definitely wasn’t doing yoga yesterday morning. I fucking knew it. Was she thinking about me then? I felt my dick twitch and had to change my train of thought.

I scrambled to finish making the bed, then sat on the edge waiting for her to finish up in the bathroom. I was curious how she would react to me finding it.

As soon as she walked into the bedroom, she paused. Her eyes caught sight of the purple happy stick in my hand almost immediately. My brows arched up at her as I fought a smile.

“Where did you find that?” she asked nervously.

I tried not to laugh, “Under your pillow.”

She looked horrified, “And you just picked it up without knowing whose it was or if it’s clean?”

I shrugged, “I mean, it looks clean. I just assumed it was yours.”

She shook her head as her cheeks tinged red, “Nope. Don’t know where that came from.”

I clicked my tongue, “So, you’re telling me you’ve been sleeping with someone else's vibrator under your pillow all week and didn’t notice?”

She stared at me with wide eyes, seeming unable to respond.

“It’s ok, I know you were not doing yoga yesterday…If it makes you feel better, I beat off in the shower before I went and got us breakfast.”

I tried my best to keep a serious face as she fought a smile. I knew that would get her.

“It doesn’t bother you…that I have one of those?” she asked quietly.

My brows furrowed, “Of course not…why would it? Hell, I have a few myself.”

I could see the tension leave her body, now realizing for the first time that she thought I would be upset over it. That fucking asshole.

“It’s just that Alec was weird about it…said it created unreasonable expectations…and that it was probably the reason I had trouble having an orgasm with him. When in reality it was just him apparently, because I definitely do not have that issue with you.”

A goofy grin slid across my face. I liked the fact that I could get her off when he couldn’t. I motioned for her to come sit on my lap, she acquiesced, wrapping one arm around my neck as she did. I reached to cup her face as I spoke.

“That guy was a fucking idiot. They’re meant to be a friend, not an enemy… to enhance the experience for both parties. Sex is about giving pleasure just as much as receiving it, how you get there shouldn’t matter.”

Her fingers found their way to my hair as I leaned in, resting my head against hers, “Obviously what he failed to realize is that you get what you give. For me, I get just as much pleasure out of being the reason that you come undone as I do from sex itself…and ultimately the sex is better because of that. If you need a little extra help to get off, so be it. Everyone is wired differently and has different needs, but he obviously missed that memo.”

Kat sighed quietly, then smiled as her fingers twisted tighter around the strands she was gripping, “Where’ve you been all my life, Dieter Bravo?”

My stomach felt like it was doing flips from the way she was looking at me. She was literally taking my breath away. After closing the distance between us, I kissed her deeply. Trying to convey the depth of my feelings for her without words. I kept it brief, soon breaking away to meet her gaze with a smirk, “I’ve been waitin’ for you to find me, honey.”

It wasn’t a lie. I really had been stuck in an endless cycle of self-sabotage, waiting for a lifeline - a reason to get it together and figure my life out. I only needed to put in the work to meet her halfway and prove that I was trying.

Her tinkling laugh caused my heart to race as she leaned in to capture my lips with hers. She was so fucking perfect. At that moment I knew I would do anything to make her happy and keep her in my life, including staying sober.

With a groan, I pulled away, “I think I need to get you to bed. We have to be up ridiculously early for our flight.”

She puffed air out of her cheeks in annoyance, “Fine. If you insist on being responsible and getting some sleep…”

She stood from my lap, untied the robe, and dropped it to the floor with a sly grin before crawling under the covers. My head slumped downward, chin to chest, as I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the arousal the sight of her naked body had caused. She already knew how to push my buttons in ways no one else did.

Once she was settled, I stood, moving to the opposite side of the bed before setting the vibrator on the nightstand and stripping off my boxer-briefs. I climbed into bed behind her, not hesitating to reach out and pull her against my chest, burying my face in the top of her hair to take in her citrus scent.

Within minutes, her breathing shifted to deep, steady breaths. It was a testament to how tired she was, but she would never admit to it. I laid there for a time, in the dark, surrounded by the scent of her…of us. For the first time, maybe ever, I felt content. It was a foreign feeling, but I could definitely get used to it.

As her body heat sunk into the depths of my soul, I dared to imagine what it would be like to go to bed with her every night and wake up together every morning. The strong desire for it took me off guard. Then the images in my mind shifted slightly to include a sparkling ring set on her left hand and a simple band on mine. This was another first. I had never considered giving myself to someone like that, but now I longed for it. I knew she was it for me and I wanted it more than anything, but I knew it was still too soon. It was too soon for the both of us. I still had shit from my past to work through before going there and she probably did too. I didn’t want to rush this. It needed to be nurtured and grow organically. I couldn’t let my impulsiveness get in the way.

With a soft sigh, my eyes finally slid closed. It didn’t take long for me to drift off with Kat wrapped up in my embrace.

Hours later, I awoke to Kat wiggling her ass against me. After squinting one eye open, I could see that it was nearing 5:30. I groaned, tightening my arms around her.

“Is there a reason you’re squirming?” I asked gruffly.

I could hear the smile in her sleep filled voice, “I can’t sleep.”

I sighed, trying with massive effort to ignore the morning wood she kept rubbing her bare ass against, “We don’t have to be up for another hour.”

I felt her hand slowly sneak down between us, her fingers wrapping around the hard length of my dick as I hissed through my teeth.

“You better be prepared to do something about that if you insist on waking him up.”

She let out a deep throaty chuckle, “I told you, I can’t sleep.”

She released me, her hand trailing up to mine, guiding it between her thighs. She was already soaking wet. It was my turn to chuckle as I leaned down peppering kisses along her neck and jaw, my fingers gently spreading her slick over the sensitive bundle of nerves that was already throbbing.

“It looks like my little sex kitten wants to come out and play.” My fingers slightly increased pressure as they danced around her clit. “Is that what you want sweetheart? You need me to play with you?”

A soft moan escaped her as she nodded. Her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she tried to hold in her sounds, failing miserably.

“Look at you, already being a good girl and purring for me.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

My fingers slipped lower to her entrance, teasing. “I know, but I think you kind of like it.”

She shook her head in disagreement as I easily slipped two fingers inside of her, curling them against just the right spot and causing her to shiver as she began to grind against my hand. Small sounds still escaped her no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. Her eyes slid shut as she got lost in the feeling.

I licked up her neck, stopping to allow my lips to graze the shell of her ear as I echoed the words she said to me the previous night, “You gonna be a good girl and let me have my way with you this morning? It’s only fair.”

She smirked, turning to peer up at me through her lashes. It was enough to make my dick jump against her. Her smile widened as she arched back against me ever so slightly. I fought a smile, shaking my head in disapproval as I withdrew my hand from her wet heat. She let out a whiny groan as I turned toward the nightstand, grabbing her vibrator. She may have spent the previous evening edging me within an inch of my life, but I was determined to spend the next hour making her come over and over again until she was a quivering mess of tears from the pleasure.

I turned back toward her, tucking one arm underneath her torso and pulling her tightly against my chest. She giggled, dropping her head down against the pillow allowing me access to her neck. I wasted no time leaning down to place open mouthed kisses along her collarbone, clicking the vibrator on with my free hand to drag it against her nipple. She gasped at the unexpected sensation, knotting her fingers in my hair as I moved it to the other side. My nose trailed along her slack jaw as her breaths began to come out in soft pants against my face.

My lips found her ear again, “Show me how you like it.”

Her eyes met mine. She seemed almost hesitant at first, but eventually reached for the hand holding the vibrator, leading it downward between her thighs. She held my gaze as she guided the tip up the center of her slit, then proceeded to move it in tight circles over the small nub. She let out a heavy sigh, melting into me as her eyes drooped and her hips moved in time with our hands. Tremors ran through her body, each one becoming more intense as she got closer to the edge.

My gaze never left her face, watching as her brows pinched together and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She struggled to hold her eyes open, determined to keep them on mine. I could feel her stomach muscles tightening under my arm as she arched into it, her breathing becoming heavier as she let out quiet whimpers. Her hand gripped my wrist firmly as I quickened my motions. She fell over the edge with a with a deep groan.

I chuckled, “You’re being such a good girl for me...coming already. Let’s see how many times I can make that happen before the alarm goes off.”

I turned the vibrator off as she lay there with her eyes closed, panting. I didn’t stop my movements. Instead, continuing to gently stroke up and down her center with the slightly curved head, spreading her slick and dipping it into her opening ever so often. I noticed her hips bucking upward just a fraction, seeming to crave more.

“Show me what else you like,” I whispered into her ear.

She swallowed thickly as she looked up at me, sliding her leg upward then lifting it over the top of my thigh, giving me better access to her dripping cunt. I smirked down at her as she shifted to grind her backside against me a little more, her hand dropping down to guide the vibrator to her entrance. She inserted it a few inches, the curved tip angled slightly toward the front. Her eyes clenched shut as she began to move it in and out - slowly. Always at the same angle and always just a few inches, stimulating that elusive spot inside. Her hand released mine once I got the motion down, allowing me to hit the on button before continuing. She gasped, her eyes drooping closed as her next orgasm began to build. Within minutes she was writhing against me, falling off the edge for a second time. Her body was trembling incessantly and covered in sweat. She had a blissed out smile on her lips as she came down from her release.

I gave her a few minutes, gently rubbing up and down the length of her naked body as her breathing returned to normal. When she finally opened her eyes, I smiled down at her as I reached to brush the stray hairs from her sweaty face, “Can I try it my way now?”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, arching a brow as she gave me a slight nod, seeming intrigued by my offer. I shifted lower, notching my hard length at her sopping wet entrance from behind. I sunk into her, just a few inches - in and out, adjusting her leg over mine and the movement of my hips to get the angle right. When I heard her gasp and felt her press back into me, I knew I had found that spot again. I set a slow, but steady rhythm as I held her in place against me with the arm that was tucked under her.

With my free hand, I reached for the vibrator. Again, switching it on to the lowest setting and using the rounded tip to make tight circles around her clit. It didn’t take long before she fell apart again, and I was loving every second of it. My lips found her ear, “I want you to know…I’ll never deny you pleasure.”

Her face turned toward mine, our heads leaning together as she panted against my mouth. Her hand reached up to twist in my hair, pulling it tightly. I groaned from the sting as my hips moved against her a little faster, “You’re mine now…I’ll give it to you any way you want it, whenever you want it…without question.”

She suddenly tensed and moaned loudly against my lips, coming again for the third time without warning. I slowed my movements, drawing it out of her for as long as possible. I swallowed her gasps with a searing kiss as she continued to tremble against me. She returned the kiss with fervor, seeming more needy now than before we got started.

My hips never stopped, but I gave her a brief reprieve from the vibrator. Once I placed it back at the apex of her thighs, she began to squirm and whine.

“You got one more for me, Kitten?” I asked.

She shook her head, still panting, “I-I dunno…”

She looked absolutely wrecked, but I wasn’t done with her yet. It was taking everything in me to stay focused so that I didn’t lose it myself. I could tell I was getting close but was determined to hold out a little longer for her. I wanted to show her what she had been missing.

I set a relentless pace, thrusting a little harder and faster now. I clicked the button on the vibrator to bump up the speed. Kat turned her head, burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sobbing moans that she could no longer hold back. I could feel her walls fluttering around me again, she was close, but the tension in her shoulders told me she was holding back.

I nuzzled against her ear, shifting the arm that was looped under and around her so that I could grasp her chin to turn it toward me, “Look at me, sweetheart. I wanna see you.”

She twisted her torso toward me the best she could given our current position and captured my lips with hers. Her hand cupped my cheek as she continued to groan against my lips. Her hot breath coming out in a rush between kisses.

“Come on, Kitten. You’re so close…I can feel it. Give me another one,” I said in a soft, but commanding voice.

“I-I can’t,” she said in a near sob.

“Yes, you can, you’re almost there. Just let go.”

“I can’t…I…can’t do it…”

After a little more coaxing, she finally did. I didn’t stop or slow down. Instead, I went faster and applied more pressure with the toy. Her jaw tensed as she fought to hold back her sobs, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she shifted to clench her thighs together, squeezing my thigh between hers. I somehow managed to keep the vibrator moving through it as her walls continued to contract around me - over and over again.

I couldn’t hold on any longer, now thrusting deeper to chase my own release as I felt a rush of her slick covering my hand and thigh. It only took a few more thrusts before I was falling over the edge with her, completely losing it over the intensity and duration of her latest orgasm. Mine seemed to be just as intense as hers, causing my toes to curl and making me feel completely euphoric as I got lost in her.

I collapsed on the bed behind her, gasping for air as she did the same at my side. I couldn’t help chuckling as I pulled her back against me. She turned, burying her face in the crook of my neck as she tried to get herself together.

“You ok? Was that too much?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head, “No…but I don’t even know what just happened. Was that one long orgasm or multiple?”

Her words bubbled into quiet laughter against my chest. I couldn’t help hugging her tighter against me and laughing along with her. She settled in on her back, staring up at me as her giggles subsided. Her fingers found their way to my hair like they always did, and she began scratching at my scalp. Her mood seemed to shift suddenly, her expression serious as her eyes danced over my face.

“You ready to head back to LA today?” I asked as my fingers trailed down the curve of her waist.

She was quiet for a moment, eventually shaking her head, “No, I’m not ready for this trip to end.”

I gave her a sad smile. I’m not ready either. “Why not?”

Her brows pinched together, “Honestly, I’m afraid of what’s waiting for us when we get back. Drama is gonna be coming at us from all sides. Stacia and Joe are gonna have us under a microscope now after everything that’s happened. At least here, it’s just us. I don’t feel like we have to constantly be on guard. Ya know?”

I tried not to frown but failed. I knew she was right. They weren’t going to make it easy on us. “It’s gonna be fine. We’ll get through it together. And it’s not like we’ll be under a microscope ALL the time. We can be together in private when we’re not doing show stuff. We just have to make sure we keep our hands off each other in public and you stop looking at me with gooey eyes all the time.”

She scoffed, “Excuse me!?!? I do not.”

I smirked, “Yeah ya do…have been for weeks.”

She let out a nervous laugh, “Whatever, Bravo. You’re the one with that problem.”

My smile widened, “Oh I absolutely have that problem. Admitting to it is the first step. You’re just so fucking perfect…I can’t help it.”

Her cheeks flushed, “Stop it. I am not.”

I chuckled as I shifted above her, caging her in to shower her with kisses through her giggles. We were interrupted by my alarm going off. My hand blindly reached for the phone on the nightstand as I hovered above her. After shutting it off, I leaned down to suck on her bottom lip eliciting a deep groan from her. I continued to pepper kisses along her jaw between my rambling words.

“I actually can’t wait to get you home…in my house…in my bed…I wanna cook dinner…and breakfast for you. Maybe snuggle on the couch and watch a movie…make you fall apart…over…and over again.”

Kat wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me against her center. Little Bravo was definitely taking notice. She sighed, “Dieter, if you don’t stop now, we’re gonna miss our flight.”

I snickered, “I can be quick too…”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, “That may be the case, but I don’t want you to be.”

I gave her one last peck on the lips, “Ugh, fine. I’ll go take a cold shower.”

“Can I…” she paused, seeming unsure of herself.

My brow arched at her, “You know the answer is yes…whatever it is.”

She laughed, her cheeks flushing as she asked, “Can I take a shower with you?”

I gave her a lopsided grin, “I thought we had a plane to catch?”

“We do. I mean it…just shower. Nothing else.”

I had never ‘just showered’ with anyone. Hell, I don’t even think you could call those showers at all. There was no getting clean involved. The idea of it had my heart racing. I wanted the intimacy of it. No, I needed it. I just wanted to be with her in every way possible.

My smile softened, “I would honestly really like that.”

I gave her a quick peck on the nose, then shifted to get out of bed. She watched me stretch as I stood, my dick was half hard and I didn't even bother to try and hide it. She chuckled, pulling the blankets back to get up. Her brows furrowed as she rubbed her thighs together.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

She snickered, “Yeah, you made a fucking mess of me.”

“Yeah? Well…you made a mess of me too. Pretty sure you squirted all over my thigh.”

Her mouth fell open, “Oh my god...I-Is that what happened?”

I nodded.

She looked a little stunned, “Well…that’s new.”

I couldn’t help feeling a little smug over it, “That’s what happens when you have someone that cares to figure out what they’re doing.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a laugh as she stood, “Shush you.” She paused, “Ugh, my legs feel weak.”

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around her middle for support as I guided her toward the bathroom. Kat got into the walk-in shower and turned on the water, adjusting the nozzles to get the right temperature before stepping under the spray. I stepped in behind her, snaking my arms around her waist to hold her against me as we let the warm water run down our bodies. She turned, kissing me gently as she reached up to run her fingers through my hair, making sure it was saturated before reaching for the shampoo. We continued on like that, placing light kisses and caresses as we took turns washing each other.

As she rinsed the conditioner from my hair, I began to feel somewhat emotional, and I didn’t really understand why. My chest felt tight, and I could feel a lump forming in my throat, but it wasn’t in a bad way. The only conclusion I could settle on was the fact that I could feel how she cared for me. It wasn’t fake. She wasn’t trying to take from me. I really felt like we were bonding in a way that I never had with another person, causing our connection to evolve and deepen. She was actually making me feel happy. It was overwhelming, making me feel breathless as she smiled at me.

We didn’t take things further, but the shower still lasted a little longer than it probably should have given that we were on a tight schedule. We had to rush to get ready and pack up so that we would make it to the airport on time. We barely managed it, but did make it. Luckily, the studio had booked us a set of seats in business class. Where we were situated gave us a little privacy, allowing Kat to comfortably snuggle into my side without prying eyes. She slept for most of the flight, citing that she felt completely spent from our morning exploits. I slept some, but mostly split my time between watching some cheesy movie and watching her. Watching her sleep seemed to be my new favorite pastime. There was something about seeing her cuddled up at my side, completely relaxed and unguarded. It made me feel even closer to her somehow, knowing this was a side of her that not many people had the opportunity to see. I reveled in every second of it.

Once we landed, she and I both had to make a conscious effort to behave ourselves, avoiding touching or looking at each other directly. It was obvious that eyes were on us as we made our way over to pick up our luggage. I wasn’t shocked to find paparazzi milling around as we moved toward the exit. They didn’t hesitate to approach us, attempting to make small talk about our time in New York and complementing our SNL performances. We smiled and politely went along with it until one of them began prying.

“A source has reported that you two were sharing a hotel room, is that true?”

Kat and I both tensed from the question. I could sense her eyes glancing in my direction as he continued to push for an answer. Sighing, I rolled my eyes at the guy, “Might wanna get a new source, dude. Not true.”

“Really, you were seen coming and going from one room together the whole time you were there.”

My jaw clenched as I took a deep centering breath. Who the fuck is feeding them information? “The studio put us up in a multi-room suite. We had separate bedrooms. We didn’t reserve it,” I finally said.

“So, you’re sticking to your story that you aren't together then?”

Kat scoffed and shook her head.

“Kat, do you have any comments on those photos of Alec and Lana that came out a few days ago?”

She tried to ignore him, not giving any reaction to the question at all as we continued walking. However, he kept pushing, each question about Alec getting more and more personal as he crowded her space to shove his camera in her face. I couldn’t take it anymore, moving to position myself between them as I gently guided Kat to the other side of me with a hand on her upper back. The pap tried to go around me, but I held out my arm to block him, “Dude, what’s your problem? Leave her alone or I’ll get security over here.”

“You’re awfully protective of her, Dieter. You sure nothing’s going on with you two?”

This guy was about to make me lose my cool, which I think might have been his goal. I had to remind myself that’s something the old Dieter would have done as I took another deep breath, refusing to give him anything to work with. Instead, I focused on getting Kat out of here. Luckily, we didn’t have to put up with them too much longer as the pickup exit came into view.

Once we made it outside, Evan was there waiting for us. I told Kat to wait in the car while Evan and I put our bags in the back. The paps were still there, with the one guy continuing to be an absolute asshat.

“Hey man, how’s sobriety going? You think you’re gonna stick to it this time? Have you ever been sober this long? What’s different about this round?”

He just kept going, on and on. I really wanted to punch him in the fucking face. My frustration intensified when I couldn’t get the bags to fit in the trunk. Evan could sense that I was getting worked up. He subtly nudged me with his elbow, “D, I got it. Just go wait in the car so this guy will fuck off.”

I gave him a tight nod, ignoring the camera and incessant questions as I moved to the back door to get in. The paps hung around, snapping shots of us in the back seat. Kat gave me a tense look, “I really hope this doesn’t become the new normal. This is fucking insane. Why are they being so pushy?”

I looked out the front window and narrowed my eyes on them as they continued to snap pictures of us, “I dunno. Somebody is obviously feeding them information, right?”

She sighed, “Have to be. I think we’re really gonna have to watch ourselves. They’re gonna be analyzing everything we do.”

Evan got into the driver’s seat, quickly starting the ignition and pulling out into traffic. Kat and I both visibly relaxed as we left the paparazzi behind. We didn’t move any closer together, but I did reach over to take her hand, entwining our fingers to rest on the seat between us.

“Sorry that guy was giving you trouble, D. If I had known that was going to be an issue I would have called ahead for security.”

I squeezed Kat’s hand a little tighter, “It’s fine, it was really just the one guy that was a problem.”

Evan nodded, looking at me in the rearview mirror, “Thank God for that…Anyway, how was your trip? Everything else go OK without me being there to hold your hand?”

I scoffed, “I can follow a schedule without assistance you know.”

Evan laughed, “Yeah, when you’re in the mood to do it.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Zee still doing OK?”

He nodded again, “Yeah, she's a little mopey, but still feisty and still doesn’t like me. She’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

I chuckled. It still warmed my heart a little that she didn’t seem to like anyone but me or Kat. I liked to think that maybe it was a sign of some sort.

Evan briefly glanced back over his shoulder in Kat’s direction, “Oh, Kat, the locksmith guy should be at your place just after we get there…said it should take an hour and a half tops to change everything out.”

Kat smiled, “Thanks. I appreciate it, but really you didn’t have to do that.”

He laughed, “I get paid to do what Dieter tells me to do, so yeah, I did. Really, it was no big deal.”

Kat shook her head at me, biting back a smile.

We drove in silence for a few minutes until Evan eventually spoke, attempting small talk, “So, aside from the crazy paparazzi, how was your week in New York?”

I couldn’t control the smile on my face, as I glanced over at Kat. She turned to look out the window, covering her smirk with her hand.

I cleared my throat, “It was good. We had a good week.”

I could feel Evans' eyes on my face in the rearview mirror. Tucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I too turned to look out the window.

“That’s it? Just…a good week?”

My gaze met his in the mirror, “Yeah. I mean…it was work. All week.”

His eyes narrowed on me. Fuck. He knows.

“You're being dodgy, D. What did you do?”

I laughed nervously, “Nothing. I behaved myself.”

He stopped at a red light, then turned in his seat to look between us, his eyes immediately dropping down to see our entwined hands on the seat. Kat and I looked between each other and Evan, wide-eyed as a huge grin spread across his face.

“I fucking knew it!”

I sighed and raked my free hand down my face, “Evan, please shut up.”

A horn blared behind us, Evan laughed loudly as he turned forward realizing the light was now green.

“Don’t worry, D. You know I won’t say anything. I’m so fucking excited for you guys though…greatest news ever! He’s been pining over you for weeks, Kat. I hope you know that.”

Fucking hell. “Evan, shut up. Please.”

Kat chuckled beside me, “No, Evan. Please keep going.”

Evan was about to say something else, but I cut him off, “Remember who pays you, dude.”

His mouth snapped shut. He huffed through his nose, “Sorry, Kat. He has a point.”

I looked at Kat with a smug grin, “For the record, I’ve said nothing to him. He just made assumptions. You can’t believe anything he says.”

Kat laughed at our banter, now relaxing some and scooting just a little closer. The three of us slipped into easy conversation after that, filling Evan in on our week and chatting about SNL. Kat and Evan took the opportunity to gang up on me and affectionately give me hell about my plant obsession. I loved that they seemed to be getting along and felt comfortable enough around each other to laugh and joke around. My circle was very small, so it was important to me that they got along.

Sometime later, Evan pulled into Kat’s driveway. We all exited the vehicle. Evan and I dug through the trunk, pulling out my bags to get to Kat’s. Evan was just shutting the trunk when the locksmith pulled into the driveway. Kat took a moment to talk through what she needed done with the locksmith. Afterward, he disappeared to the back of his van to gather his supplies.

I grabbed Kat’s luggage, then glanced over at Evan, “Can you handle that from here? I wanna make sure there aren’t any assholes lurking around.” My eyes shifted to Kat, “Assuming that’s OK with you, of course.”

Her lips tugged upward on one side, “Yeah, that’s…OK. I would appreciate that.”

I followed her to the front door, suddenly feeling nervous that I was about to see her place for the first time. She keyed in, holding the door open for me as I drug her luggage inside.

I gave her a nervous smile, “Where do you want these?”

She looked anxious, fidgeting with the keys in her hand, “Ummm, just leave them in the living room.”

I followed her further inside and set the luggage down next to the couch. She ran her hands through the top of her hair, “Sorry, it’s sort of a mess in here. Not as squeaky clean as your place.”

I looked around, it wasn’t bad. She had a pile of laundry at the end of the love seat, mail piled on the coffee table, and a blanket and pillow strewn across the couch. There were other little things lying around - an iPad, book, glasses, and an empty coffee cup. Otherwise, the place was pretty clean. I shrugged, “It’s not that bad. My place looked a hell of a lot worse than this before I hired a housekeeper. I was also a drunk and an addict…sooo, use your imagination.”

Her brow furrowed, “Fair enough. I just usually don’t feel like doing much while the show is in season. It takes a lot out of me these days.”

I reached out to rub her arm, “That’s understandable. I promise I won’t hold it against you. You know…I could send…”

She poked me in the chest, “Dieter, no. Stop it.”

I held my hands up in defeat, “I know, I’m just saying…A little help never hurt anyone.”

She rolled her eyes, “No. I don’t need it. Now, let's check for lurking assholes.”

After a quick peck on my lips, she grabbed my hand, leading me through the house to check things out. My eyes scanned over the surroundings, taking in the spaces for the first time. She kept things simple, with minimal decor all in earth tones with small splashes of color. She did have several paintings, all abstract pieces of dancers. I had to smile to myself knowing the pieces I had been working on. They would fit right in with the rest of her collection.

I followed her downstairs to find she had her own mini dance studio - hardwood floors with a wall of mirrors. The room was basically empty aside from a loveseat on the far wall and a small table with speakers.

Kat moved toward a door at the bottom of the steps, “Let me just go check the garage. I’m not seeing anything out of place. All of his junk is still here. It doesn’t look like he’s been around. Maybe he was afraid of running into Evan again?”

I nodded as my eyes focused on a mess of fabric hanging from ceiling gliders in the corner, “Yeah, maybe…”

She poked her head in the garage and looked around before closing the door again, “Everything looks good in there too.”

I could feel her eyes on my face as she came to stand beside me, “What are you looking at?”

I cleared my throat and gave her a questioning look, “I-Is that a sex swing?”

Her eyes drifted to where I had been staring moments before, then she snorted. “Really? That’s the first place your mind goes?”

I gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged, “It’s what it looks like.”

She laughed and shook her head, “No, those are aerial silks. I do aerial yoga.”

Her hands slid around my waist as she leaned in next to my ear to whisper, “It’s how I stay bendy.” She pulled back, smiling at me.

I gave her a wolfish grin as I pulled her in closer to press my forehead to hers, “I don’t actually know what that is, but it sounds fucking hot. I’d like to watch you do that some time…and maybe participate…in some way.”

She laughed against my lips, “Life with you is never boring, Dieter Bravo.”

I gave her a quick peck, “I like to keep you on your toes…and keep your toes curling.”

She cackled, moving to wrap her arms around my neck. I leaned in and kissed her again, more deeply this time. My hands gripped her hips, gently squeezing and pulling them against mine.

She hummed against my lips, then pulled away, “We still need to rehearse, and we have spray tans this evening, so we can’t get too carried away.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned, “Can we please skip the spray tan?”

She sighed, “You know what…I don’t wanna do it either. I vote we skip it. Fuck’em. We need to rehearse and I’m in no hurry to run into Alec. I think we can get away with it this week.”

I snorted, “You might be spending too much time with me…”

She shrugged with a smile, “I’ll let production know not to expect us. Do you need to run home before we go to the dance studio?”

My hand scratched at the back of my neck, “I dunno, if I go home just to leave again, Zee might not let me back in the house…”

Kat giggled, “That’s true…I certainly wouldn’t make it easy on you if I were her.”

I huffed out a laugh, “Gee, thanks. Maybe I’ll just send Evan back with my luggage for now and have him pick me up later? We can go grab an early dinner then head to the studio if you want? Ooor…we can rehearse here…”

Her eyes narrowed, “Dieter, I’m fairly certain that if we tried to rehearse here, there would be no rehearsing.”

I barked out a laugh, “You’re probably right. To the studio then…where we have to behave.”

I gave her one last kiss, this one a little more heated as I hugged her tightly against me. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind us at the top of the stairs. Our attention averted to Evan standing there, hands in pockets with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Sorry to interrupt you two, but Kat, the locksmith is ready to work on the side door that goes into the garage.”

Her cheeks flushed as she nodded, “Got it. I’ll go open the door for him. Thanks for helping with that.”

After Kat walked out into the garage, Evan looked at me and silently mouthed “Oh. My. God.” as he bounced down the stairs to meet me.

I couldn’t help smiling, “Shut up. Don’t say anything.”

He bumped me with his elbow, “You guys are too damn cute. Dude, you’ve got it so bad. I’ve never seen you like this…”

I raised my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He held up his hands in surrender, “Ok. Ok. All I’m gonna say is, I approve. She’s fucking awesome…and hot. She makes you look like less of a hot mess.”

I scoffed, “Oh fuck off with that.”

As we waited for Kat to finish up with the locksmith, I filled Evan in on the plans for the evening. He agreed and left soon after that. Kat and I weren’t far behind him, first driving to grab some take out and eating in the car. We weren’t in the mood to be bothered by fans or paparazzi if they happened to appear as they seemed to have a way of doing lately. We ate quickly and mostly in silence, realizing the day was getting away from us. It would be our only chance to rehearse in the studio before the live performance, so we did want to try and take advantage of it.

It was weird rehearsing in the dance studio after being completely alone and uninhibited in New York. We were cognizant that anyone could walk by and see us through the glass, making sure to keep a reasonable distance between us throughout the evening. The vibes, however, were completely different. We were focused and only discussing the dance, but the electricity buzzing between us was at an all-time high. There was a new intensity in the way we moved together, perfectly synchronized and connected. We could read each other so effortlessly in how our bodies shifted around the dance floor. There were no more verbal cues passing between us, only looks and guiding touches. I could feel her unyielding trust and confidence in me more than ever and honestly, it was making me fall for her all over again.

After a few run throughs, Kat mentioned that we might need to take it down a few notches. Even we could sense the chemistry sparking between us now. There was no denying it. We decided to try and take a more playful and flirty approach. Not changing the choreography but executing it in a way that didn’t look like we were seconds away from having hot passionate sex on the dance floor. It was a major feat, but we finally got it figured out - or so we thought.

Before we knew it, it was nearing 10PM and Evan was texting to let me know he was outside waiting. I sighed, bumping Kat with my shoulder, “I think I’ve gotten spoiled being with you this week. Going to bed without you is sort of a depressing thought. You sure you don’t wanna come home with me?”

She chuckled, “I do, but you need to spend some time with Zee when you get home. We also need to actually get some sleep tonight.”

She has a point. I nodded in agreement, but that didn’t keep me from whining, “Fiiiine. I’ll suffer through it.”

I reached out, subtly grabbing her pinky with mine, “I’d really like to give you a goodnight kiss, but I know that’s probably a bad idea.”

She shook her head, “Probably not a good idea while we’re here.”

My lips set into a tight line, “This is gonna be a tortuous seven weeks, isn’t it?”

She laughed and nodded, “Probably…but it’s not like we can’t see each other outside of the studio, so calm down.”

“Fair point. Ok, I’ll walk you to your car and I will behave myself.”

Kat grabbed her bag, then we made our way toward the exit. As soon as we stepped outside, I noticed a car across the street that had someone sitting inside it.

“I’m probably being paranoid, but that might be a pap over there,” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the vehicle.

Kat’s eyes shifted and squinted off in the distance. She blew air out of her cheeks, “Yeah, you might be right.”

“Fucking hell.”

I followed two steps behind Kat as we walked toward her car and where Evan was parked next to it. I took a minute to open the driver side door for her as she tossed her bag through to the passenger seat. She smiled up at me, “I guess I’ll see you bright and early.”

I nodded, “Yep, I’ll be there with my dancing shoes on. Text me when you get home and are locked inside, please…wanna make sure you’re safe.”

Her lip tugged upward as she sat in the seat, “I will. Give Zee some hugs for me? Goodnight.”

I nodded, “Night, Kit-Kat.”

I reached down and hit the lock button on her door, then shut it. I could see her smiling and shaking her head as she started the ignition. I watched her back out, giving a brief wave as she put the car in drive, then turned to get in the passenger seat of Evan’s car. I was met by his smirking face.

“What?” I asked in a clipped voice.

“You’re down bad, dude.”

I let out a controlled breath, “I am. So fucking bad.”

Evan barked out a laugh as he backed out of the parking spot, “At least you’re aware.”

We were quiet for a few minutes. Suddenly, Evan opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but snapped it back shut.

I crossed my arms over my chest, “Spit it out.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, “It’s just that…you’ve been doing so well. I don’t want this to derail you.”

My brows furrowed, “Why would it? I haven’t even thought about doing any of that shit since I’ve been spending time with Kat.”

He chewed on his cheek, considering his next words, “And if it doesn’t work out with her?”

The question felt like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t even considered it. The way it stood right now, I couldn’t imagine a path to that. We seemed to be fitting together seamlessly.

“IF that were to happen…I like to think that I could handle it. I’m in a better place now and I’ve learned healthier coping mechanisms… I’ve surrounded myself with good people who won’t take advantage of my troubles.”

I paused briefly, shrugging as I thought through my next words, “I got here without her so it’s not like I need her to stay where I’m at. However, she’s making me happy…it’s like she’s the last missing piece. I…”

I wasn’t sure if I dared speak the next words out loud. I could feel my heart racing at the thought. I could feel Evan’s glances in my direction, patiently waiting for me to continue.

He sighed, “Just say it, D. What’s on your mind?”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, raking my hands down my face. I could feel the sweat beading at the base of my neck as I swallowed thickly, “I can imagine myself being with her…like, long term. Fuck, I’d move her in with me tomorrow if she’d do it. I-I’ve never wanted that with anyone before.”

Evan’s eyes widened, “Woah, that’s pretty heavy, D. That’s a big step for you.”

I laughed nervously, “Trust me, I know. I mean, that’s not gonna happen…not tryin’ to rush things. I’m trying to be realistic about it. We still need to get to know each other and all that…but I feel…hopeful.”

“Damn, D. I’m proud of you man. For once you’re not acting impulsively.”

I chuckled, “Na, I don’t think she would let me. She totally calls me out on my shit.”

He smacked the steering wheel as he laughed, “Good. You need that…and for what it’s worth, I do like her so far. She seems genuine.”

I couldn’t help smiling at his words. I loved that he liked her.

He pulled into my driveway a short time later. After a quick thanks, I made my way to the front door and keyed in. My eyes immediately sought out Zee so I could scoop her up and cuddle her. I found her sitting at the edge of the couch. I don’t know what sort of reaction I expected from her, but sassy indifference wasn’t it. She gave me serious side eye as I sat my keys, wallet, and phone down and toed off my shoes.

I approached her, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey baby girl. Did you miss me?”

I squatted down in front of her just as she stood, turned her back to me, flicked her bushy tail in my face, and jumped from the couch. She sashayed over to her cat tree, then made her way up to the very top. She perched with her back to me, still flicking her tail with attitude.

I snorted out a laugh, “Really? I’m gone for a week to work so I can fund your extravagant freeloading lifestyle, and this is what I get?”

More side eye and tail flicking.

“Ok. Fine. No cuddles means no bedtime snack.”

Her tail paused as she finally turned to look at me with her rounded green eyes. “Ahh, that got your attention, huh?”

She stood and meowed loudly, eventually making her way down to the lower level of the tree before jumping down and walking toward the kitchen with determination. “You’re about to hardcore swindle me aren’t you, you little shit?”

She proceeded to chatter at me. I felt like I was being scolded as I made my way over to her personal cabinet for a bag of treats. She wasn’t interested in any of them. Instead, she kept trying to lead me to the refrigerator. I sighed, knowing what she wanted and hoping that Evan had boiled a chicken breast for her. I had started something with that. It was now a thing she demanded.

“I gotta hand it to you…you’re a confident little thing and you definitely know what you want.”

She jumped up on the island, staring at me intently as she swished her tail around. I rolled my eyes and pulled the refrigerator door open, scanning the shelves for a glass bowl with chicken. I easily found it on the top shelf because Evan had apparently printed a label for it that said ‘Queen Zee’s Fucking Chicken’.

I chuckled, “You gave uncle Evan hell, didn’t you baby girl?”

She let out a low mewl, looking somewhat smug now as I pulled out the bowl and popped the lid off. I pulled off a few tiny shreds of meat, letting her take them one-by-one from my hand. After they were gone, she began to meow loudly again and rub her head against my hand. I sighed, “Fucking swindler…fine. One more and that’s it. We gotta get ready for bed.”

She seemed satisfied after that. After putting her bowl back in the fridge, I moved to wash my hands. I heard my phone ding with a text just as I was drying them. As I figured, it was Kat.

Kit Kat: I’m home, locked inside, and in bed. I already miss having you with me. ☹️

Her words caused a rush of excitement, but also longing. I would have loved to have her with me, at her place or mine. I didn’t care where, but I did have Zee to think about too.

Me: I miss you too, sweetheart. Maybe you can come over after rehearsals some this week? I’d love to make you dinner again. Something Greek, maybe? 😏

Kit Kat: I love it when you talk dirty to me. 😉

Kit Kat: Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you bright and early. Goodnight. 😘

I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off my face as I read her latest messages. I loved it when she was playful and flirty.

Me: Sweet dreams, Kitten. 😘

I couldn’t help wondering if she would roll her eyes or clench her thighs together over the mention of the new nickname. I could picture her doing both simultaneously and it caused a snicker as I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed.

Minutes later I was settled in, trying my best to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. Without Kat’s warm body snuggled against me, I felt restless. I hated the lonely feeling that her absence left in the pit of my stomach. I only had a small taste of what it was like to have her with me, but it was all I needed to get hooked.

Zee eventually made her way to bed, obviously over her anger as she snuggled up in the crook of my arm and purred herself to sleep. That seemed to help me relax enough to doze off. At least I wasn’t alone.

My 5:30 AM alarm came fast. I felt like I had just closed my eyes as I rolled out of bed. I went through my usual routine of getting ready, feeding Zee, and stopping to get Kat and I some breakfast and coffee before heading to the production studio. I was feeling a little on edge, somewhat worried about Alec causing drama. However, I reasoned that he had had a week to cool off and had clearly moved on with Lana. Maybe he would just let it go. I hoped so, for Kat’s sake. She tried to act like his behavior didn’t bother her, but I knew it did.

Kat and I arrived early, as usual. We were both smiling like fools when we caught sight of each other. I couldn’t help touching the small of her back as I leaned in to tell her “Good morning” and hand her coffee and breakfast over. A heated look passed between us that set my heart racing. I could already tell that it was going to be so hard to act normal while we were around others.

She smirked, leaning in to speak in a low voice, “Careful Bravo, you’re gettin’ the gooey eyes when you look at me.”

My brows arched, “Yeah? So are you, sweetheart.”

We both laughed as we made our way to the ballroom. Our early arrival made us first in line for camera blocking and run throughs of the performance. The crew was still getting things set up, so we took a minute to finish up our breakfast and coffee as we waited. Other couples soon began to filter in. I could tell Kat was getting more and more tense each time the door opened.

“You ok?” I asked her in a near whisper.

She nodded, “Yeah, I’m just afraid he’s gonna cause drama.”

I reached out to give her hand a small squeeze, “If he does, he’s gonna have me to deal with. I’ll break his fucking face this time.”

She peered up at me through her lashes with a smirk, “While I find your protective side to be incredibly hot, you will not do anything. He’s not worth it.”

I couldn’t agree to that. Luckily, I didn’t have to because our attention was drawn to the band Director who wanted to discuss the music arrangement before we got started. After that, things were in full swing as we began our run throughs. By that point, Alec and Lana had arrived. I swear I could feel their eyes on us. I think Kat could too, which would explain the tension running through her body during our first round.

As we waited for the cameras and lights to reset, I grabbed both of her hands and gave her arms a shake, “Loosen up. We’re supposed to be making this flirty and fun, remember? Ignore the asshole and focus on me.”

She chuckled, “I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be telling you to loosen up…”

They gave us the signal to take our starting position, which I took advantage of as I gripped her hips and pulled her backside against me more than necessary. I could see the hint of a smile as she tilted her face to the side toward mine. My lips leaned in next to her ear, “Relax, I’ve got you.”

That seemed to do the trick. I could feel the tension leave her body as she all but melted into me just as the music started. We did try to keep it fun and flirty, but there was no denying the sparks between us no matter how hard we tried to hide them. By the time we finished, all eyes were on us. It had clearly drawn everyone’s attention.

Surprisingly, they didn’t ask us to go through it again and gave leave for us to head out for our final wardrobe fitting. There was a quiet murmur of voices and a weird vibe as we walked off the dance floor. Kat and I made sure to keep our distance from each other as we walked toward the exit, but I could sense her uneasiness. I was feeling it too.

As we stepped into the empty hallway, our eyes connected.

“Is it just me or was that weird?” she asked.

I nodded in agreement, “No, that was definitely weird.”

She puffed air out of her cheeks, “Maybe it’s just because they all know about the Alec thing now. I’m sure that’s caused some gossip in our absence.”

That thought did nothing to alleviate the uneasiness I was feeling, “Yeah, maybe…”

Our wardrobe fitting went quickly as no alterations were needed. Kat looked amazing as always. The sheer fabric they had swapped out on the skirt half of the dress was flowy, yet hugged her curves perfectly. It emphasized her hips, taking my mind back to how those hips moved on top of me in New York. Her eyes had caught mine drifting up her body in the mirror as she turned and twisted to get a good view of the new sparkly material. The smirk on her lips told me that she knew exactly what I was thinking about as she innocently twisted her hips a little more.

We were ahead of schedule as we made our way down to hair and makeup, quickly taking a seat with the ladies that had worked on us the previous week. They had made the process a little less painful, actually chatting and having fun with us. I made an attempt to learn their names this time. Holly, who had done Kat’s hair the previous week, began combing through her long locks as she eyed me, “Dieter, do you have any hair recommendations this week?” she asked.

Kat and I laughed, “I’m not sure why you would ever want my recommendations. I’m sure Kat doesn’t.”

Samantha, who was working on my hair, smiled, “I dunno, your recommendation sort of pulled the look together.”

Kat’s foot kicked at mine, “You always have an opinion. Share it.”

I snickered. She wasn’t wrong, “Hmmm, with that dress…I think down in soft, romantic waves would be best. I’m not a fan of it being slicked back with a gallon of hair gel.”

Samantha paused with the container of hair gel in her hand, “You want yours down in soft, romantic waves too, honey?” She had a teasing look on her face. Kat and Holly both snorted out laughter.

I chuckled, “Uh, I didn’t know that was an option. Do I get extensions too? I think it would look fabulous. I could give Fabio a run for his money.”

All the ladies burst into laughter just as Alec and Lana came strolling in. Alec had a stony look on his face as he sat on the opposite side of the room. Lana on the other hand, seemed amused about something as she glanced our way. It was sort of bizarre. Kat gave me a questioning look. She had seen it too. I shrugged in response.

Our small group continued to be boisterous, not caring about our new company. Several other couples soon filled the stations, but it didn’t seem to lessen the tension in the room. Even though we pretended to ignore it, it was definitely there. Kat had turned her seat to face me, with her back to Alec. I, on the other hand, could see his reflection perfectly. I didn’t miss how his eyes flicked over in our direction ever so often. His expression remained neutral, giving nothing away as he alternated between watching us and listening to his partner. My gut was telling me he was a ticking time bomb, waiting for the perfect moment to go off.

Holly finished up with Kat’s hair, smiling as she asked me what I thought of the final product. I looked Kat over, not even paying much attention to her hair. I knew my sappy face had to be giving me away, but I sort of didn’t care, “I think she looks fucking amazing.”

I felt Kat nudge my foot with hers as her eyes widened. I quickly looked away and glanced at myself in the mirror, “I mean, not as good as me, obviously.” It had the intended effect as Samantha and Holly laughed.

As they worked on our makeup, I blabbed about how Zee gave me hell when I got home the previous night. That topic seemed to keep everyone entertained until we were finished. I could feel Alec’s eyes on us as we got up to leave. I made sure to block his view of Kat as much as possible, allowing her to walk ahead of me to exit. We did a quick change into our costumes then headed back to the ballroom for our final dress rehearsal. After going through it once, we were free until showtime.

Evan was kind enough to bring us lunch after we found catering to be less than satisfying. He joined us in my dressing room while we ate. It was a nice distraction and gave him and Kat a chance to get to know each other a little better. It was nearing showtime when he left, but it still gave Kat and I a few minutes to ourselves. As soon as he closed the door behind himself, Kat’s eyes were on me. She stood from the chair she had been sitting in and moved to perch on my lap, resting her arms around my neck as she looked at my gelled back hair, “I really should tell them to leave your hair loose too. It doesn’t look very touchable like this.”

I laughed, “No kidding. It’s like fucking concrete.”

One hand trailed down my cheek, then her thumb brushed over my lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Her voice was low, her eyes dilating as I looked into them. I couldn’t help tightening my grip on her hip, “What’s stopping you?”

“It’ll fuck up our makeup and we’ll have explaining to do.”

I sighed, gently nuzzling our noses together, “Fucking makeup.”

She laughed quietly as I leaned my head against hers, “I’m perfectly content with a good cuddle too. I hate not being able to be affectionate whenever I want to.”

There was a flash of emotion on her face. I couldn’t place it. Sadness maybe? Regret? Both? Her arm tightened around my neck slightly. I shifted, leaning my head down to place a kiss on her bare shoulder. Our moment was interrupted by staff calling out the 20 minute warning in the hallway. Kat reluctantly pulled away and began fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, undoing two of them. I chuckled, “What’re you doing?”

Her hand dipped inside and laid flat against my chest, “Encouraging your button allergy and…maybe showing you off a little.”

Her eyes shifted up to meet my gaze, “And I just needed to feel you.”

That same look from a moment ago returned. I could see it now, she was anxious. My hand dropped down over hers on my chest, lacing our fingers together before bringing them to my lips for a soft kiss. My eyes never left hers. We stayed like that for a beat until I begrudgingly broke the spell, “We probably need to get to the staging area now.”

She nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She stood, not letting go of my hand, pausing to grab her phone and give herself a quick once over in the mirror, then pulled me along to the door. I wrapped my arm around her waist, stopping her and pulling her back against my chest, leaning in to speak quietly against her ear, “Just for the record, you look like a fucking goddess today.”

She smiled, “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”

I chuckled as she opened the door and stepped away from me into the hallway. We silently made our way through the hustle and bustle to the staging area to wait for the show to begin. It was nice to have Kat there with me the entire time since she didn’t have to worry about the professional dancers performance this week.

Throughout the show, we stayed huddled close together, watching and critiquing the performances of each couple. After tonight, it would be down to eight couples, which meant the competition was about to become much more intense. There were several groups that had really improved, and at least four of them appeared to be serious competitors for Kat and me. As if there wasn’t enough fuel on the fire, one of the four couples happened to be Alec and Lana.

Our performance was scheduled to be last this week. So, we had a pretty good idea of what we were up against. As our performance got closer, we stepped over to the hair and makeup team for some quick touch ups, then Kat pulled out her phone and headphones, not deviating from our routine of getting us hyped up. I, however, didn’t feel like we needed hyping up for this one. I wanted to be in the right mindset for the performance, to feel the emotions of the music we were dancing too. I also felt like she was still a little anxious and wanted to help her relax.

I reached for her phone, “Can I make a suggestion this week?”

She gave me a quizzical look and nodded, opening her music app and passing the phone to me. I found the song that we were dancing to this week and hit play. She smiled at me.

I winked and grabbed her hand, “Just setting the mood.”

I wanted so badly to hold her, but I knew that probably wasn’t a good idea. Instead, I pulled her hand to my chest where she had placed it earlier, resting mine over hers, I began doing some of the basic footwork for the Rumba, before transitioning into the quick, quick, slow box pattern in the small open space we had to ourselves. I hoped that it would appear that we were practicing a bit before going out onto the dance floor, even if we weren’t framed in the proper position.

It seemed to have the intended effect on her as her eyes locked with mine. I could feel the tension leaving her body as we moved together and blocked out the flurry of activity around us, only focusing on each other. We went on like this for a good portion of the song until I eventually pulled her in for a hug and continued swaying to the music. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t need to. I felt like the lyrics of the song were doing a lot of the talking for us - at least they were for me. There was a new intensity and focus that passed between us as the last notes played. It gave me goosebumps and had my heart fluttering in that way it tended to do when I was with her.

Nearby movement caught my attention. It was one of the camera operators tasked with getting behind the scenes footage. I sighed, knowing he had probably caught a lot of that, but I also kind of didn’t care. A production assistant appeared at our side, letting us know that we needed to get in place. We nodded as Kat grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the ballroom floor entrance.

The minute we took our starting position, the air around us was crackling with that strange electricity that I always felt between us. As soon as I slid my left hand around Kat’s waist and pulled her backside against my front, I knew there was going to be nothing playful or flirty about this performance. She melted into me and seemed to be all in for taking the sensual route. My right hand reached to lift hers to the back of my neck and slid down the underside of her arm. She turned her head to the side, our lips nearly touching as my right hand took her left to fan her outward. It was almost like we were back on the rooftop in New York, completely alone and lost in each other.

We didn’t miss a beat, executing each move perfectly. Our footwork was completely in sync as we twisted and twirled around the room. I could feel a rush of something run through me each time our eyes met. Hers were blazing with the fire that I had longed to see there since I first noticed it, and they were blazing for me. The connection that I felt with her in that moment seemed almost otherworldly and had definitely ascended to a new level. There was no hiding whatever was happening between us. It was on display for everyone to see, more so than it had been during the morning rehearsals.

By the time we got to the lift, Kat had completely thrown all caution to the wind. After wrapping her legs around my waist and rolling her torso upward, her hands found their way to the sides of my face, grazing her lips against mine as I turned us to transition to the next move. We damn near kissed on live national television. We didn’t hold back through the last half of the song, feeling every word, every note, and pouring it into our performance. By the time she spun into me for the last lift and ending pose, I felt like I could have kissed her right there in front of the world, but I refrained. I let her take the lead on how she wanted to end it. After dipping her backwards, her right hand found its way to my cheek as she nudged our noses together. Her eyes were bright as she broke into a dazzling smile and leaned her head against mine. I stood, wrapping my arms around her middle to lift her with me. She pulled me into a tight hug as the audience broke into near deafening applause.

We made our way over to the judge’s table for feedback. All they gave were words of praise, emphasizing how the chemistry between us had reached new levels and was off the charts for this performance. They also mentioned that we oozed sensuality and were perfectly in step with one another. Their enthusiasm blew me away and I honestly hadn’t seen them that excited for any of the other performances this week. No one had gotten a perfect score yet, but three of the couples were within 5 points of it after tonight. I was hopeful that we could at least get one of the high scores for the night based on their reaction.

Once they were finished with their feedback, Kat and I made our way over to the interview area and waited for a commercial break to end to receive our scores. Her right hand wrapped around my bicep while the other squeezed my hand tightly. I shot a nervous glance in her direction as she leaned in, “Don’t worry, the whole thing was perfect. We’ve got this.”

We held each other's gaze, both of us with a small smile on our lips. Her confidence helped me relax some. Our attention was pulled back to the host who was now talking to the camera. He turned to us, asking about our challenges for the week and wondering how we managed to pull it off while also preparing for SNL too. I was in a daze as we answered his questions, not even really remembering what I had said by the time they went to the judges for scores.

I could feel Kat’s hold on me tighten with each score of ten that we received. Once it was down to the last judge, she and I both waited with bated breath. If she had squeezed my hand much tighter, she might have broken some bones. When the final ten was called out, we looked at each other, wide-eyed and shocked. It was a delayed reaction as she let go of my hand and nearly jumped into my embrace, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me tightly as I spun her around. Both of us laughed loudly and enjoyed the moment together.

The side-eyed glances as we joined the rest of the cast did not go unnoticed. I couldn’t figure out why they were all looking at us like that. If looks could kill, Alec would have definitely taken us out right then. Our gazes had locked for a brief moment. There was something about his glare that sent a shiver down my spine as he calmly turned to leave the staging area. I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut as I turned back to Kat, who was smiling up at me with her face flushed from the adrenaline of the moment. I tucked her into my side as we waited for the bottom three to be announced. Unfortunately, Alec and Lana were not included in that. They had received the second highest score of the night, just behind us. I could only hope they would have a massive fuck up and be voted off soon.

Kat’s POV After the show ended, Dieter and I leisurely strolled toward our dressing rooms. Both of us were still vibrating from excitement having earned a perfect score for our performance. We were the first couple to do so this season and it was the first time I had ever accomplished it since being on the show. I knew it was because of him. Not because he was a good dancer, which he was, but also because of the trust we had in each other and our ever strengthening bond. I don’t think I could have managed it with anyone else. I now felt confident that we had a real chance of making it to the finale and maybe even winning. No matter the outcome, I would have Dieter. Even if he was the only thing I got out of this, I knew that had the potential to be enough.

We were making plans for dinner to celebrate our success as we reached Dieter’s dressing room. He told me to think about what I wanted to eat as I continued past his door down the hallway toward mine. I noticed that he kept a watchful eye on me until I got to mine, which I appreciated.

I felt my phone vibrate in my hand just as I stepped inside my space. I glanced down to see a text notification from my sister as I closed the door behind me, realizing too late that Alec had been waiting in the nook behind it for me to enter. His hands were on me in an instant, roughly twisting my arm behind my back and pinning my face against the wall.

I watched as he locked the door with his free hand, then felt him lean in, brushing his lips against my ear as he spoke in a deep, threatening voice, “You didn’t really think you could make me out to be the bad guy and get away with it, did you?”

He twisted my arm harder, “That little stunt you pulled with the paparazzi was not the way to go, baby. You should’ve kept your fucking mouth shut.”

I felt pain shoot through my arm and panic taking over my body. There was something off about him this time. He seemed out of control and vengeful.

He turned me to face him before shoving me back against the wall. I managed to keep my head from smacking against it, but it did knock the air out of me a little. He moved closer, caging me in with his arms, “And now you come back from spending a week with that asshole and try to embarrass me with that fucking performance? Pawing and rubbing all over him…acting like a little bitch in heat. I knew you were lying about him.”

I let out a shaky breath, “N-No…I didn’t lie. Nothing happened between us.”

Both of his hands shifted from the wall to my throat, gripping firmly, “I don’t believe you.”

I tried pushing him away, but he didn’t budge. Suddenly feeling defiant, I asked, “Are you forgetting the part where I caught you fucking your dance partner? I don’t give a damn what you believe anymore. You're a manipulative asshole.”

His eyes darkened as a sinister smile spread across his face. His grip on my neck tightened, “Your behavior still has consequences ya know. If you wanna publicly shame me, I’ll turn this around on you so fucking fast. I’ll ruin you both.”

His grip continued to tighten, causing me to claw at his hands. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Alec, I…can’t….”

His smile slowly faded, his eyes turning emotionless. This was different. For the first time, I was truly concerned for my safety. My eyes filled with tears as I gasped for air, desperately trying to loosen his hands or push him away, to no avail. The more I fought him the harder he squeezed. It didn’t take long for my vision to begin clouding with darkness around the edges and it was clear he had no intention of stopping.

Next: Week 6

A/N: I am leaving this note from an undisclosed location to avoid the angry mob and pitchforks over that cliffy. 👀😂

So...BIG chapter. I think this may be the longest one I have ever done. I refused to break week 5 up into another section, so this is what you get. I hope you survived it...hopefully the subtle Dirty Dancing references kept you entertained. 😏

How do we think things are going with our two love birds so far? This chapter brought us lots of smut, more smut, flirting, and ridiculous cuteness during their last days in NYC. They are definitely going for it. I think Kat is going to learn a thing or two from Dieter, for sure.

We all knew Dieter would be a menace (shame on him for the SNL monologue change up), but did we expect Kat to be just as bad?

We got to see Kat get a little territorial over her man. Do we think she is going to get sick of people hitting on him at some point?

How about that bit with Kat mumbling in her sleep, did anyone see that coming after last chapter?

What do we think about Kat's new nickname?

And we got the Dieter/Zee reunion! We all knew she wasn’t going to let him off easy.

We all know Stacia and Joe are going to be up in their business after NYC. There will 100% be antics on Dieter and Kat's part when it comes to that. What do we think they are going to do?

We all knew Alec was going to continue to be a problem. Did you see that ending coming? How do you think this situation is going to go?

We are finally going to be moving into week 6 in the next chapter. We will pick up right where this chapter leaves off to cover the drama and fallout that follows. Then we will move into the Argentine Tango. There will be lots of bonding between Dieter and Kat, a Dieter therapy session, all the Latin dances are going to start catching up to Kat, and some dressing room antics. 😏

The video for this chapter comes from one of my fav couples on the show (seriously, they have so much chemistry and are very Dieter/Kat coded). It's pretty steamy. Check it out.

👉Click HERE for this chapter's rumba video.

👉If you're interested in hearing the song they are dancing to in week 5 and seeing the rumba in that video, you can view that HERE.

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

Text

October

2k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: autumn is here, and you always loved that season. This year, you will probably love it even more Warnings: none, fluff. Meet cute, soft!Javi, book lovers, cats, alt POVs. No age specified.

a/n: this is written for @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese 's fall challenge. I ordered Peña’s Pumpkin Latte and A fall walk 🎃🍂🍁

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing and everything, as always 💕🫶 dividers @steddiecameraroll-graphics 🙏

Autumn has always been your favorite season. The cooler temperatures, cardigans, blankets on the couch. The thicker socks. You loved staying in and watching the leaves fall from your couch. Drinking coffee or hot chocolate, your cat on your lap.

You also loved going to bookstores or cafes, walking on the fallen leaves on the ground. Listening to their crunch under your feet. The streets painted in a mix of red, orange, brown colors were beautiful. The first rains didn't even bother you.

That Saturday, you took your notebag and the book you were currently reading and headed to one of your favorite places. To get a coffee sprinkled with chocolate powder, and to eat some of those ghost-shaped cookies that the owner cooked every year, from October to November. You finished your book there and decided to get a new one, so you walked to your usual bookstore. The one where the owner's cat sleeps on the books. He's beautiful, black and white. He lets you scratch his ears every time you go there, purring so hard that it always makes you smile.

It started to rain and you forgot your umbrella, so while waiting for the rain to stop, you picked three books from the shelves, and sat down in one of the armchairs to choose one of them. You turned the pages and the smell of old paper rose up to your nostrils. You loved that scent.

“Good choice,” you heard.

You turned your head towards the man who just spoke to you. Dark hair, mustache, black coat. He had two books in his hand. You'd never seen him there before.

“Your book,” he added to answer your questioning look, pointing at it. “It’s one of my favorites.”

His smile was warm, friendly. His eyes were a curious contrast of seriousness mixed with a twinkle.

“Oh, right, the book,” you replied, smiling. “Yeah, I’ve read great reviews about it. I just finished my last one and I am looking for a new one.”

“It's bittersweet, a little sad but very beautiful. If you're not afraid of a rollercoaster of emotions, it's perfect.”

“Well, I’m gonna follow your advice and buy it. Thank you…?”

“Javi,” he responded, smiling again.

“Thank you, Javi,” you replied, and told him your name. “The rain has stopped, I’m gonna go. Have a good day!”

“Thanks, you too.”

You paid for the book and left quickly, seeing that new threatening clouds were approaching.

On Sunday, you walked to the park near your house. The weather was way better that day, the sky all blue. You sat on a bench sheltered by hedges that had grown well since last spring, put a blanket you brought on your knees and began reading your book.

You started it the night before, and you were glad you followed the advice of that man, Javi. The book suited your tastes perfectly.

You stayed in the park until it started to get a little chilly, the blanket not enough to keep you warm, then you gathered your things and left.

On your way back home, a curious black kitten approached you. Its fur was a bright contrast to the orange leaves on the ground.

“What are you doing here all alone, kitty?” you asked him, crouched and scratched his chin. He rubbed against your legs, purring, then left as quickly as he‘d arrived.

As you got up, you saw Javi on the other sidewalk and waved at him.

“Hi!” he greeted you, walking towards you. “You enjoyed some quiet time in the park?” he asked, pointing at your blanket.

“Yeah, I wanted to enjoy the nice weather. I go to the park every Sunday afternoon when I can. I started to read the book!” you added.

“Oh great! What do you think?”

“I really love it so far. Thank you for the recommendation.”

He smiled at you. He was cute. And handsome.

You smiled at him too. And for a few seconds you were just smiling at each other. Those slightly silly smiles that you share when you meet someone and want to know them better.

“I was going to have a coffee, do you wanna come?” he finally asked you, breaking the silence.

“Sure.”

You had never usually had coffee with strangers, but you felt like you already knew him a little. As if the fact that you had the similar tastes in books had helped you to take the leap.

He told you he always drank black coffee, but wanted to try something new, so he ordered a pumpkin spice latte. You laughed when you saw him wrinkle his nose after tasting it.

“I’m gonna stick with my usual,” he chuckled.

You spent the afternoon there, talking about whatever you could think of. Your jobs, your families, your lives, your hobbies. He had moved into the neighborhood a couple weeks ago and didn't know anyone there.

You parted ways, saying “see you soon”.

The following Saturday, you hoped to run into him. At the bookstore or at the café. Or in the neighborhood. You didn't see him and you were a little sad about it. You had often thought about him during the week.

On Sunday, you went to the park. It was a beautiful autumn day. To your pleasant surprise, Javi was waiting for you. With pastries and two coffees.

“Too creepy?” he asked with a cute, almost shy smile, as you stopped surprised in front of him.

“No… too cute,” you grinned, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He was dressed in black. Coat, sweater, pants. He was really handsome. You couldn't believe he was waiting for you there, that he remembered what you said about loving to come there every Sunday afternoon.

You drank your coffees and ate the pastries, sitting on the bench, your blanket on both of you.

He told you he bought furniture the day before, that he finished putting it together late at night. As if he was trying to explain why you didn't see each other yesterday.

“I'm glad to see you today,” you told him.

“Me too.” He looked at you, his eyes landing briefly on your lips. Smiling shyly afterwards, as if to apologize.

You saw each other for the next three weeks, every Saturday and Sunday. Doing fall walks to the cafe, bookstore, park. Every day of the week, you looked forward to the weekend. Aware that you were slowly falling in love with Javi, even if you didn't show it. You weren’t sure if he had feelings for you.

One day, you didn’t know what pushed you to do it, but you couldn't resist and you kissed him under your umbrella. He had just caressed your cheek, and his eyes were the only thing you were able to see. As if everything else had disappeared.

He kissed you back, his lips pressing against yours, his soft mustache against your skin. You didn't talk about it, didn't want to. You just loved being with him and everything had been perfect so far.

He was always calm, reassuring and didn't rush you. You liked that he didn't feel compelled to fill in the blanks in your conversations.

“Did you see that the café is closed for renovations next Saturday?” he asked at the park, that last Sunday.

“Yes…” you looked down at your feet. You didn’t want to spend a Saturday without seeing him, so you gathered some courage. “Would you like to come and have coffee at my place?”

“I’d love to,” he added quickly, as if he was relieved to know you wanted to see him too.

You gave him your address, and added, “it's the last house on the right. The one with the pumpkins, electric garlands and candles in the living room window.”

He smiled and said “see you Saturday, Hermosa,” before leaving.

Javi wasn’t expecting to meet anyone with whom everything seemed so easy. Not so fast, not so smooth. That Saturday at the bookstore, he saw you a few seconds after the bell on the door rang, announcing an entrance. Always used to analyze every situation, every noise around him. He had done nothing but that for decades. Some habits were hard to break.

You went straight to the cat sleeping on the books, awake as soon as you had lulled him with your soft words “hey kitty, how's your day going? You're such a good boy, always taking care of those books. You love their smell, don’t you? I love it too.”

He heard the cat purring from where he was. Javi wasn't a cat person, he preferred dogs, but found it rather cute, that loud purring sound.

He had thought back to Puff, Steve and Connie's cat. Fucking sicarios.

His years at the DEA would haunt him for years, probably for his entire life, he knew it. He had tried to work on his father's ranch, but everything reminded him of the DEA. His childhood, his teenage bedroom. The discussions with his parents about his desire to join the agency. Lorraine. He wondered what he had missed, even though he did not regret his years in Columbia. He had done the best he could.

He had thought that maybe he would recover faster if he left Laredo. If there were fewer people who spoke Spanish around him. He needed a change of life, so he had moved to the other side of the country.

And then you arrived in his life, kind of.

When he saw you, holding his favorite book in your hands, his heart skipped a beat. There were two other books on your lap, but you were looking at his favorite. He didn’t hesitate long before coming up to talk to you. As if that book was some kind of a sign that he had to meet you.

On Sunday, he saw you sitting on a bench in the park, immersed in the book. He didn't want to disturb you, so he waited for you to leave and came to meet you while you were crouching next to a cat in the street. You really were a cat person.

The smile you gave him reached his heart a little too fast. As if you were a constant in his new life. Already.

It could seem silly, he didn't know you. But he didn't really remember what a normal life was, either. With no drugs, no guns, no threats, no deaths. You were none of that. Maybe that was the reason why he never felt the urge to be grumpy or sassy around you.

The following Saturday he went to buy the last pieces of furniture he was missing in his apartment. He started to assemble them, without realizing how much time was passing. Until he saw that night had almost fallen. He ran to the café, to the bookstore, to the park, but he didn't see you. It was too late.

He cursed between his teeth, and hoped to meet you the next day. Yes, the next day, if the weather was nice, he would go to the park.

He smiled when he woke up the next morning, seeing the blue sky. He waited for the afternoon, then bought two coffees and some pastries. Hoping that you would be there.

You greeted him with a big, beautiful smile when you saw him. Thanking him for what he had brought. And damn, you had a charming smile.

Then, you saw each other every weekend, all October. Each week passed too slowly for his liking, while each moment in your presence passed at the speed of light.

One Saturday, in that café, he didn’t even realize that he had rested his head on his hand, turned towards you, and that he was drinking in your words. You were so close. It made you smile shily. He wondered if you were as enamored as he was.

But he didn't want to move too fast, didn't really want to know if you were. It had been a long time since he had spent such moments with a woman. Someone who wasn't related to his job. Since high school, probably?

He didn’t want to know, but when you came out of the cafe and it started to rain, you opened your umbrella and offered him a cover rom the rain under it. Your eyes plunged into his, and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush your cheek covered in a few drops of water with his thumb. Your eyes slid from his eyes to his lips, and you bit yours. He didn’t move, not wanting to break the moment. Not wanting to go too fast. But he let you get closer to him, until your lips landed on his, offering the softest kiss he had ever received. He felt his cock throb, tightened in his pants. It was happening to him more and more when he was with you, but he didn't want to think about it. He wanted to put his arm around your shoulders to protect you from the cold, but he didn't dare.

Though, he couldn't help himself from resting his hand on the small of your back, brushing it over your coat. He felt you getting closer to him and you walked without speaking. The silence wasn't awkward at all, and he loved that.

That last Sunday, when you offered him to have coffee at your place, he didn’t hesitate for long. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to take his time anymore.

He knocked on your door and when you opened it, he held out a book.

“This is my second favorite, if you want to give it a try,” he said. As if he was not really talking about giving a try to that book, but to him.

You smiled, pulled him by the collar towards you and kissed him.

He definitely didn’t want to take his time anymore, and apparently neither did you.

Javi p masterlist

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

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The Rift - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, bad science, happy endings :)

Summary: The Heroics have been working day and night to develop the technology and reopen the Rift. Now that the day has finally come to send Marcus Acacius home, how will the four of you possibly be able to say goodbye?

A/N: HAPPY TRAILER DAY!!!! As a treat, here is the last chapter of this silly little time travel romp. Here we are, friends! This might be a cheesy ending, but this is a cheesy story :) There will be an epilogue to follow... eventually. Thank you everyone for supporting this silly fic!

Masterlist | Chapter Eight | Epilogue

(Pike)

Marcus wakes with a pit of dread in his stomach. He’s never been good at people leaving, and even if the reasons for Marcus Acacius to return to his time are real, concrete, and urgent… it hurts just the same. Inexplicably, it feels like his fault, even if logic tells him this thought is ridiculous.

Losing Marcus Moreno, however, he does consider to be his fault. He should have stood firm, repeating the hero’s directive that Acacius not be seen in public, but all that it took was one look at your hopeful, pleading looks, and he had caved.

If the Heroic never wanted to see any of them again, Marcus would understand.

Even worse is that his connection with you has never felt more tenuous. After everyone else leaves, would you stay? Or is it only the extraordinary circumstances of the Rift that had brought you all together, and when all the reasons to stay are erased, would that be the end?

As he lies in bed with three other bodies–all so precious and dear to him after such a short time–he wishes, nonsensically, that he had more than two arms, so he could hold all of you at once. Already, he feels everything slipping through his fingers.

Marcus isn’t awake for long before both Moreno and Acacius are stirring. He slips his fingers in between the General’s and squeezes hard, trying to communicate everything he’s feeling through their hands. The man gives him a lazy, sleepy smile. His eyes are, as always, twinkling with wit and mischief, but Marcus thinks he can see a sadness behind them this morning.

Or maybe he’s projecting.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He gives the Heroic a smile, too, but when he looks away with the pain written all over his expression, Marcus feels the impact of it like he’s been punched.

Your eyes slowly blink open, sensing everyone else’s movements, and Marcus presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead.

It will be okay, he thinks, but he’s not sure if he’s communicating telepathically with you or trying to convince himself.

Marcus Acacius dresses, for the first time in weeks, in the clothing he’d been found in. The four of you drink coffee at the kitchen table in silence, and Pike wonders if, like him, nobody else knows what to say.

“I’m having a car sent,” Moreno finally says, breaking a long silence.

“Thoughtful of you,” Marcus deadpans, unable to keep the sarcasm to himself, although he still regrets the remark the moment it leaves his lips.

You shoot him a hurt glance, and he looks away, too ashamed to be able to meet your eyes.

It’s all falling apart around him.

(Moreno)

Marcus sits in the passenger seat while the three of you pile in the back of one of the black SUVs used for special Heroics business. He’s angry still, his powers prickling the nerves at the back of his skull as he tries to check his email on his phone. It’s easier to lean into the anger than to face the emotion that’s clawing at his chest, making him feel as though there’s a deep gash just over his heart.

Hurt.

It’s nonsensical, really–he’s the one pushing himself away; he’s the one who took an oath of solitude and willingly sequestered himself away, choosing loneliness over fear. Over loss. He must do this, and yet it feels like he’s tearing the hole in his heart himself.

It was always meant to be temporary. The only reason the four of them are even together is because of the Rift. When he realizes that, he realizes this was doomed from the start. Marcus Acacius was never supposed to be here, and he was never supposed to receive that visit from Special Agent Pike. He wasn’t supposed to meet you, or drink your beer, or sit at your kitchen table eating dinner as though all of this was normal. It was never normal. Nothing in his life ever is.

When they reach Heroics HQ, Marcus walks briskly down pristine white hallways, letting the three of them fall into place behind him. He leads them to the elevator down to the underground testing labs, where scientists in lab coats are hurrying back and forth, preparing for the final trial of the new technology.

They’re about to rip open space and time itself.

The lead scientist on the project team gives the four of them a spiel that Marcus hardly listens to–the blood is still rushing too loud in his ears. On a nearby desk, a metal-capped pen begins to wiggle back and forth, but no one else takes notice.

You’re all ushered behind thick safety glass as they prepare to open the portal. Marcus watches as the contraption in the middle of the room begins to whir to life, internal mechanisms spinning rapidly until suddenly a blinding beam of light erupts from one end. The entire room crackles with energy, and he can feel all the hair on his body standing up straight. With a high-pitched, deafening sound, the beam grows in intensity until he can no longer look straight at it. Papers begin to flutter off of desks as the air around them whips around at the disturbance. The wind swirls and gusts, getting stronger and stronger. The awful noise reaches a crescendo, when finally, the space seems to be pushed to either side in a small explosion that creates a deafening crack of thunder. The machine powers down, and the blue beam disappears. In its place is… a portal. A portal to another space and time. The air around it crackles violently with energy, and the wind does not settle. He doesn’t remember the Rift being so… violent, but this opening was purposefully created without expending fatal amounts of energy into the lab, instantly killing them all.

“We can’t hold it open for long,” the lead scientist yells through the static. “It’s time.”

Marcus Acacius carefully removes his translator earpiece and places the device gently in Moreno’s palm.

“I am grateful,” the man says in English, looking to each of you in turn, “for your help and… for your… companionship.”

You surge forward and throw your arms around the General’s neck, and he closes his eyes as he winds his arms around your waist and presses you closer for a few moments before letting you go.

“Farewell, expert of Roma,” he teases with a little wink and a kiss on your cheek.

Sniffling, you turn and bury your face in Pike’s chest to hide your tears.

“Take care of her,” the Roman tells him softly, and the Agent nods.

Then, Acacius turns to the hero.

“I am sorry,” he says simply. “You are a good man.”

Next to him, Pike scrubs at his cheek with one hand and turns slightly away, and Marcus feels himself breaking apart.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

Marcus Acacius gives him a slow, meaningful nod and turns back toward the new Rift. The tears that the hero had been holding back suddenly break free, and he shakes with silent sobs. He’s losing all of you at once. It isn’t until now, when he’s watching it happen, that he realizes he can’t do it anymore.

He can’t live out the rest of his life alone.

Not anymore.

“M–” he makes a small noise in his chest that may have been the start of two different mens’ names, or could have just been a sob. Either way, the eerie crackling of the Rift swallows the sound, and it goes unheard by anyone else.

Desperately, he scrambles with a shaking hand to grasp for someone–anyone–to keep him from drifting away. He manages to clasp the Agent’s wrist, and the man turns, eyes widening at the pathetic tears rolling down Marcus’s cheeks. Wordlessly, he holds out his arm–the one not currently holding you, and the hero doesn’t need to be asked twice. He strides forward and takes his rightful place: holding and being held by you and Marcus Pike.

The Roman, not hearing the commotion behind him, is still walking slowly toward the portal. There’s caution in each step, and Marcus can understand his reluctance. Unlike the first Rift, this one is more turbulent, chaotic, and loud. He wouldn’t want to step through the violently moving air either.

Marcus Acacius reaches out, and part of his hand disappears through the swirling portal.

And he hesitates.

“Sir, the portal is becoming unstable!” One of the Heroics scientists calls out urgently. “You have to go through now.”

Acacius doesn't move.

“I like showers,” he says suddenly in his thick accent. “I like movies. I like pizza. I like museums.” He finally turns around, a brilliant smile across his cheeks. “And I like you. More than any of that.”

He pulls his hand away, and with a deafening crack that sounds like thunder, the portal suddenly collapses on itself, and the room is suddenly eerily silent.

“I… I have seen too many things,” the Roman says, quieter. “I… can not go back.” He looks at Marcus Moreno and adds cautiously, “Will your army of heroes be… not pleased?”

Marcus has been the leader of the Heroics for too long. Once upon a time, he hadn’t been concerned with optics, with red tape, or politics. Once upon a time, he was a man who just wanted to use the gift he had been given for good. To help people. To make a fucking difference.

Once upon a time, Marcus Moreno hadn’t been afraid.

A watery smile spreads across his face.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says shakily. “It pleases you.”

You let out a loud sob and jump into the hero’s arms. The Agent laughs joyfully, brushing away a few tears as he joins in the hug, sandwiching you between them.

Marcus Moreno extends his hand toward the man who is–was–out of his own time. “Stay,” he says simply, although the decision has already been made. “Stay with us.”

The Roman grins widely, and for the first time, Marcus notices the dimple on his cheek. He strides forward and engulfs all three of them in a tight bear hug.

“Domum,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully. “Let’s go home. …Marcus?”

All three men say “Hmm?” at once.

You laugh. “Okay, we’re going to have to come up with some nicknames.”

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

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joka ikinen suomalainen joka ikinen talvi:

oho, mites on jo näin pimeetä :0

joka ikinen suomalainen joka ikinen kesä:

oho, mites on vielä näin valosaa :0

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

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tunnel vision — an "aint it sweet" oneshot

pairing: marcus pike x oc!vincent monet rating: E(18+) word count: 1.5k content: fluff, swearing, one (1) handjob, coming in pants, heavy kissing, neck kisses, they're both a couple'a cuties dividers by @/saradika-graphics beta:@kedsandtubesocks (ily)

summary: marcus has a new boyfriend in dc, and they're taking things slow. *written as a part of a loose-fit series following these two. this is the first part ♥

a/n: written as a part of @guiltyasdave 's kiss challenge. i was given the prompt "neck kisses". apologies for taking a million years to write this 🥲

masterlist | for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

Marcus met Vincent two years after moving to DC.

He’d stayed single that whole time and took the time to heal from Teresa and his own mistakes in Texas. He knew now that trying to jump into a relationship was just a deflection from his own insecurities. Growing up with a Latina mother and a hard ass for a father set it in his mind that he had to be married with kids by a certain age.

When that didn’t happen, he started to panic and latched onto someone he realized he didn’t even really like all that much. Thankfully, his parents gave him the space he needed to figure things out and left him alone.

Vincent was a patron of a bar Marcus found himself frequenting after work. He wasn’t sure what Vincent did for work at first, but he was always there late. It made sense for Marcus to be there late, given his new position. He wasn’t sure who started talking to who first, but he does remember feeling… light.

Vincent had a warmth to him that Marcus was sorely lacking in his life. They’d meet twice a week and just talk.

Turns out, Vincent was a history professor at Georgetown University. He was… offensively handsome, with shoulder-length dreadlocks and smooth, dark skin. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and dressed sharply. Marcus found himself going lightheaded whenever the scent of Vincent’s cologne hit his nostrils. Vanilla and coconut, with a hint of something tangy.

Marcus could listen to Vincent talk about pretty much anything, his voice low, measured, and a little quiet. He wasn’t sure how any of Vincent’s students got anything done.

Marcus was always pretty straightforward about his desires, so during one of those conversations he asked Vincent out. Vincent graced Marcus with a pearly white smile and a shy chuckle. “I’d love to,” he breathed.

That was a few weeks ago now, and they’d just made their way back to Marcus’ apartment after their third date.

“Vin,” Marcus moaned, tangling his fingers through the thick ropes of Vincent’s hair and gripping tightly.

Vincent had him pinned to his couch in the living room, their hips rolling against each other. Vincent’s plump lips were latched onto Marcus’ neck, sucking and nipping languidly. Marcus loved kissing Vincent. It always left him breathless and felt like it was an event in and of itself. There was no rush to do anything, no pressure to continue to another “step”.

“N-not too high,” he gasped, his cock twitching in his slacks. Vincent chuckled and released Marcus’ neck to give him a look that said ‘I know what I’m doing’. Marcus blushed high on his cheeks and shrugged a little. “I have a meeting in the morning, you know?”

“I’m offended,” Vincent scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Thinking I’d jeopardize your professionalism like that.” He reached up to take off his glasses and set them down on the coffee table next to them.

Marcus blinked, then laughed lightly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Get back over here, you,” he smiled, patting Vincent’s bearded cheek.

When their lips touched this time, they fully melted into it. Marcus rolled his hips up against Vincent’s, wrapping his legs around his waist. Vincent made a low noise in his chest and kissed along Marcus’ jaw to the side of his neck he hadn’t touched yet.

Vincent left tender, wet kisses down the thick muscle, then blew softly against the sensitive skin. Marcus shivered and moaned weakly as his cock jumped in his pants again. He was harder than he ever had been in his life and was worried he’d make a fool of himself soon.

Vincent sat up on his knees a little and started unbuttoning Marcus’ dress shirt enough to move it and expose Marcus’ shoulder. He hummed in satisfaction when he saw the blush on Marcus’ cheeks went all the way down to his chest behind the white tank he was wearing underneath.

Marcus made a weak sound when Vincent’s lips latched onto his neck again, this time lower and closer to where his shoulder started. “Vin,” he gasped, gripping onto Vincent’s broad shoulders and digging his nails in.

“Yes?” Vincent smiled, voice muffled before he went back to lazily sucking and kissing Marcus’ skin.

“I’m–” Marcus groaned, his hips rolling erratically. He was almost certain he was going to come if Vincent didn’t slow down.

“You okay?” Vincent chuckled, releasing Marcus’ neck to look at him closely. Marcus was flushed red with big, wet eyes. He nodded and bit his lip, not making eye contact with Vincent. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Vincent frowned.

“It’s nothing, I just… Just give me a minute?” He huffed sheepishly.

Vincent blinked and looked down between Marcus’ legs. He smirked when he saw the twitching bulge beyond the fabric of Marcus’ slacks. “Oh, baby,” Vincent grinned, rolling his own hard length against him teasingly.

“V-Vin, please, I’m–”

“I want you to. Please?” Vincent cupped Marcus’ face in one large hand, his thumb rubbing against his cheekbone tenderly.

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he felt so exposed and also so safe. He knew Vincent wouldn’t judge him or tease him too harshly about coming in his pants like a teenager after some heavy kissing.

He let out a deep breath and smiled shyly up at his handsome history professor. “Kiss me again?”

“Happily,” Vincent hummed, shutting his eyes gently as their lips connected again.

They rocked together jerkily, the sounds of their heavy breathing and the creaking from Marcus’ hand-me-down couch filling the room. Vincent held Marcus close to his broad chest, strong arms enveloping him.

While Vincent took his time kissing and making Marcus feel like he was floating on air, apparently he was very different once he had a goal in mind. Marcus was making sounds he never thought he could make, the heat at the base of his spine overwhelming him.

Vincent’s hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, making Marcus’ heart pound and blood rush in his ears. “I’m– I think I’m gonna come, Vin,” he gasped, thighs trembling on either side of Vincent’s hips.

“C’mon, baby,” Vincent grinned, mouth latching onto Marcus’ neck again to push him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus whined, furrowing his brow in concentration. “Fuck!” He gasped as his cock twitched heavily in his pants, coming hard. He moaned as each wave wracked through his body, leaving him breathless.

Vincent hummed in satisfaction and rolled his hips with Marcus, prolonging everything just a little more for him. “Beautiful,” he whispered reverently. He sat up, looking down at Marcus’ spent body and the large wet spot at the front of his slacks. He chuckled at the sight, his own cock twitching in his jeans.

Marcus panted hard, coming down from his peak slowly. He gradually came back to Earth and blushed again when he saw Vincent’s warm brown eyes looking at him. “Stop,” he chuckled. “No one’s made me do that since Ashley in the 7th grade.”

Vincent smirked, chest puffing up in pride. “Well, consider me honored to be among such a prestigious group.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and gently pushed Vincent’s shoulder. “Your turn.” He crawled into Vincent’s lap, wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck. He undid Vincent’s jeans and held his thick cock in his hand through the thin material of his briefs.

When Vincent moaned and bucked his hips, Marcus felt a rush of excitement down his spine.

“S-shouldn’t be long,” Vincent chuckled, his cock throbbing in Marcus’ strong hand. Marcus hummed happily and latched his own mouth onto Vincent’s neck.

With Vincent’s cock now exposed, Marcus stroked him slowly, teasing the head with his thumb. Vincent breathed heavily, the heat from his cheeks and neck warming Marcus’ lips. Marcus pumped him gradually before he removed his hand to spit into his palm, and returned to his previous rhythm.

Vincent moaned and shivered at the wetness along his length, lips parted obscenely as he watched Marcus’ hand.

Marcus sucked hard against Vincent’s neck, nibbling on the thick muscle teasingly. “C’mon,” he encouraged, kissing up his neck to latch onto Vincent’s earlobe. He moaned around the earring there and sped up the fist between Vincent’s thighs.

“Shit,” Vincent breathed, nodding toward his cock. “M-Marcus, baby, I’m–” He smiled, resting his head on the back of the couch as he watched Marcus’ face.

Marcus blushed again and kissed him deeply as Vincent tensed, coming hard all over Marcus’ hand. He groaned into his mouth, hips bucking jerkily with his release. He giggled in the aftershocks, the dopamine rushing through his system as he held Marcus’ face in his hands.

Marcus’ heart pounded in his chest as they kissed languidly, both of them coming down from the moment.

They stayed like that for a while until they finally had to part to breathe. “We should do that again sometime,” Vincent flirted, nudging Marcus’ chin with the knuckle of his index finger.

Marcus laughed, cheeks warm and chest light. He couldn’t agree more.

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tintinn16 · 2 months ago

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Closed Position Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Hello my lovelies!

It’s been a minute since we checked in with Dieter & Kat. So, I wanted to share a little teaser to hold you over until the next chapter is complete. It’s going to be a very spicy one as these two get to know each other a little more. 😏

More after the snippet…

How about that? These two are down so bad for each other. 🤭

No ETA on this chapter yet. It’s slow going with writing at the moment. I have a couple of major projects going on at work that are eating up a lot of my time and absolutely wearing me out. I am working on it when I can though!

To wrap up week 5, we still have the SNL live show, Dieter & Kat returning to LA, Dieter reuniting with his kitty, the Rumba live performance, lots of spicy stuff, general cuteness and shenanigans. The chapter will have a rather…heated ending that may or may not be unexpected. 👀🫣

I’m ready to hear your thoughts and theories if you got them.

💜Mysty

p.s. I hope you enjoy the header image. It gave me a good chuckle. It’s totally Zee giving them the side eye.😏

CP Taglist: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza

@girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923

@sherala007 @pastelnap @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites @senorabond @annalovesflorida @sandaltoesocks @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

@pasc4lfuzz @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16

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tintinn16 · 3 months ago

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I decided to check out your other work while waiting for a new chapter of Closed Position and i was not disappointed. What an amazing story and i love how you write about mental health issues and all the other problems they both have.

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist

Completed Series ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC (Natalia)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with the resulting mental health struggles. Just when she has settled into her new normal, she meets a handsome stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor with a heart-breaking past named Dieter Bravo. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, drug use, alcohol abuse, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

🚨I’m not responsible for your therapy bills. 🫣

EXTRAS ||| TEASERS ||| VIBES ||| MAIN MASTERLIST

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20

Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24

Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Epilogue

Want more Dieter & Talia? Checkout the extras below:

✨Written in the Stars takes a deeper dive into events mentioned in the Epilogue.

✨The Light in the Darkness tells us the story from Dieter's POV. New chapters coming soon.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM.

Credits: Star Divider by @saradika Reblog/MDNI: @cafekitsune

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tintinn16 · 3 months ago

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The Rift - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dream/nightmare sequences, mentions of spouse death and hypothetical child death (in the dream sequence), angst, references to smut, m/m/m/f dynamics

Summary: Each Marcus deals with conflicting emotions after spending the night together.

A/N: WHOOPS, who let all the angst in here???? Sorry about that!

Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Next chapter>>

(Moreno)

Marcus Moreno is about to die. Alien tentacles ooze toward him out of a strange crack in the world itself, moving with terrifying speed. He can choose to draw his swords and ready himself, or to shove the people beside him away and out of danger, but not both. He’s somehow both controlling his body and observing the scene from the outside as he turns to see a pretty young woman with fierce eyes, a man dressed in Roman armor, and the FBI Agent he admires so much that it hurts. They all look at him with fear in their eyes as he lets out a strangled yell and throws them out of harm’s way with all of his strength. They land on the pavement several feet away, but it’s not far enough. The tentacles engulf them, and Marcus cries out in anguish as he draws his swords, slashing and hacking frantically, spilling thick, black blood everywhere as he tries to reach his loved ones.

He throws off the last of the writhing black mess, but somehow, the three people he had thought had been there before have changed. Now, only two bodies lie broken and bloodied on the pavement–one much smaller than the other. When he sees the eyes of his late wife staring unseeingly up at the sky, he drops to his knees with a guttural scream of grief and pain. He can’t bring himself to look at the second body, knowing exactly what he’ll see when he does.

No, he whispers as tears fall down his cheeks. No, no, no, no–

He shoots up in bed, gasping for air. He’s soaked in sweat and shaking uncontrollably, heart still pounding in his chest from the remnants of the dream. It’s only when something shifts behind him, a broad, bare chest turning and facing the other direction does he remember he’s not alone.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes his movements hadn’t woken anyone else. Carefully, he scoots down the bed, avoiding several pairs of legs, and retrieves his phone from the pocket of his discarded pants before retreating to the living room.

Hey, he taps out a message. How’s college life?

He stands in the middle of the room, staring down at the bright screen and feeling rather awkward in his nudity, not really expecting a response at this time of night but wishing with every atom in his body for one anyway.

He’s about to give up and try to force himself back to sleep when three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

M: Who’s asking, leader of the Heroics or my papá?

Marcus snorts softly.

Do I receive a different response depending on my answer?

M: 1. I am studying at the library, or 2. It’s dollar beer night at Lotus.

He smiles.

I choose option 1, obviously.

M: The real question is what are YOU doing up so late?

Couldn’t sleep. Just felt the need to check in on you. Everything okay?

M: Everything’s fine. Are YOU okay? You haven’t sent me Worried Dad texts in the middle of the night in a while.

Marcus begins tapping out a response, deletes it, starts again, and deletes that too. He sighs, glancing warily back at the bedroom. I’m afraid to let anyone else into my life, he wants to tell her. You’re my only success story, and I worry every day that I’m going to lose you, too.

It’s too much to lay on his twenty-one year-old daughter, so he turns it into a joke instead.

I’m short on my Dad quota and wanted to make sure the Dad Boss doesn’t fire me.

M: You’re weird.

Ever heard the saying ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?’

The message is left unread for several minutes, and he imagines that her friends are all goading her to get off her phone and rejoin the fun. Good. He does all the worrying for both of them, so that she can remain carefree. He smiles softly and taps out one last text.

Have a good night, bug. Call me sometime. xo

He locks his phone and holds it at his side, but remains standing in the same place, mulling over his thoughts.

He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he said it had been a long time since he’d had… well, anyone really. The last time he’d had sex was during a disastrous no-strings-attached hookup after one of his coworkers convinced him to download some app and set up a profile. That was… shit, it had to be almost two years ago now. He hadn’t realized it had been quite that long.

The last time he had a relationship was more of a trick question. He dated a few people on and off, once Missy had been able to mostly fend for herself at home, but they never lasted long or ever became serious. None of them had even met his daughter. The real answer to ‘when was your last relationship’ was ‘not since his wife died.’

It wasn’t just that no one could compare to her. It was that he couldn’t allow them the opportunity to even try. The closer people are to him, the more danger he puts them in.

But ever since a certain FBI Agent waltzed into his office and asked so earnestly for his help, he found himself wanting to let someone in for the first time in a very long while.

And now, to his great surprise and bewilderment, he has not just one more person he cares about, but three. Can he let himself get closer again? Can he afford to?

He looks at the book left open on the coffee table. At first he thinks there must be something wrong with his eyes, because the words all look like gibberish, but then he realizes the book is in Latin. Oh. Somehow he had forgotten that Marcus Acacius did not actually belong here. He can’t tell if the thought troubles him or relieves him–knowing that one less person will be in danger because of him.

The Heroic debates sleeping on the couch for a few moments, but the remnants of the dream still trickle unpleasantly through his bloodstream, and he doesn’t want to be alone. Carefully, he pads back into the bedroom and crawls back into the still-empty space that he had vacated.

He lies awake for a long time, listening to the sound of breathing.

(Pike)

Marcus stirs, cracking open his eyes to see the first rays of daylight reflecting on the wall opposite your bedroom window. He rolls onto his back, being careful not to wake you as he turns over. Moreno is snoring softly beside him, looking peaceful. This is the only time he hasn’t seen worry lines etched on the man’s forehead, and he wonders about the burden of one man trying to protect the entire world.

The Roman is already awake, piercing brown eyes meeting his with a mischievous twinkle. Marcus nods to him in greeting and gives him a small, crooked smile. The other man reaches over the Hero to run the tip of his index finger down the length of Marcus’s arm, and he shivers softly.

“Early riser,” he comments in a whisper.

“I have always risen with the sun.”

“Makes both of us,” Marcus grins.

“And decidedly not our hostess.”

They both laugh quietly, not wanting to wake the other occupants of the bed.

“Coffee?” he asks the Roman.

“I would love some.”

Marcus helps himself to your kitchen, knowing exactly where you keep your coffee grounds and filters. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so at home in someone else’s space; he’s spent more time here over the past several weeks than he’s spent at his own apartment, and from the beginning he had secretly preened over the excuse to get to know you better.

At first, your temporary houseguest had been a slightly befuddling distraction–his distinctive presence ensured that he looked completely out of place in every environment, and his constant refrain of “Quid est, quid est, quid est” was equal parts endearing and frustrating. Marcus didn’t often feel like a small man, but he couldn’t deny that the way the General’s broad shoulders seemed to fill every room had him feeling some kind of way about it.

It’s a fascination, he had told himself so many times. A temporary infatuation that’s distracting you from the woman of your dreams.

When the translators were introduced, and the Roman’s sharp wit and mischievous sense of humor could be understood for the first time, the pull became even stronger. It didn’t help that the man seemed to be a shameless flirt with everyone–himself, you, and when Moreno began spending the odd evening here, him too.

Even so, the events of the previous night had been so far beyond his imagination that he can hardly make sense of it. Marcus has always been a serial monogamist, hopping from one way-too-serious relationship to another and hoping against all odds that the next one wouldn’t end in disaster. He’s never been able to do anything that could remotely be considered casual.

He had no concept of what last night had meant.

He pours the coffee into two mugs–dumping a fair amount of cream and sugar in one, and far less in his own–and hands one to Acacius.

“You are pensive this morning,” he remarks, his voice still carrying a light rasp from sleep.

“Just thinking.”

“You and the Hero both strike me as men who are inclined to think themselves into an early grave.”

Marcus snorts. “That might be true.” Might be. Everyone he’s ever known has called him an over-thinker. “You're a great tactician when it comes to war,” he challenges the man. “Surely you appreciate the benefits of analysis.”

“There is analyzing a situation, and then there is helpfully standing in place wondering what action you are going to take while the enemy completely surrounds you.”

Marcus pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips, and really looks at the man beside him, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. He tries to imagine him in the armor he had been wearing that first night, bruised and bloodied, leading the armies of Rome with a fierce battle cry. “I don't often find myself surrounded by an army.”

“The enemy can be many things. There is a word for this, no?”

“A metaphor?”

“Mmm,” he grunts in assent. “When is an army not really an army?”

Marcus smiles to himself, setting the mug down on the counter and staring into the middle distance. “So, what do you think my enemy is?”

The General looks him up and down. “The things that you carry with you.”

His eyes snap to Acacius in shock and surprise. The man is discerning–alarmingly so, at times. Marcus’s breath catches in his throat when he responds thickly, “What is it that you think I’m carrying?”

“This is not for me to know,” the man remarks casually, raising one eyebrow. “Unless you are wanting to tell me something?”

“What are you two chattering about?” your soft voice cuts through their conversation. Marcus turns to see you padding toward them wearing only a shirt and looking satisfyingly mussed.

“A soldier that carries the weight of his past failure into the next battle will surely lose,” the General says cryptically.

You stare at the two of them blankly. “Yeah, I’m gonna need some coffee if you’re going to be talking like that.” You look at Marcus shyly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Marcus doesn’t know what to do. Does he kiss you? Is that rude? He wants to reach for you, to take you into his arms, but the two other men have him at a loss–how does one act after group sex? He has no blueprint for this situation.

“How lucky we are to have such a beautiful woman in front of us, still looking so well-fucked from our attentions last night.” The other man croons, moving closer to Marcus and nosing the shell of his ear.

Feeling emboldened by the other man’s candor, he extends his arm to you, and you immediately fill the space perfectly, your head resting against his bare chest. Marcus presses a soft kiss to your forehead. With the General at his back, he feels completely surrounded by warmth–and wonders, despite himself, if he might be lucky enough to hold onto this feeling. The only thing better would be…

“Our other Marcus still asleep?” he jokes.

“The Hero was awake for some time in the night,” Acacius comments.

Ah. That explains it. “We’ll let him sleep, then.”

“Or,” you say with a sultry smile, “or we could all three of us go back and… wake him up.”

(Acacius)

Marcus Acacius likes this more than anything else. More than any of the hedonistic acts that had come before, more than the thrill of building sexual tension between partners, is this:

The utter decadence of sweaty, sated bodies, limbs tangled together… delicious.

The hero lies boneless, half-sprawled over him. A man who has been pushed into a position of strength all his life, he finally appears free of all those expectations here. The General has always been able to read people, but it hardly took any effort at all to see that Marcus Moreno desperately craved the ability to let go. His breath shudders slightly on the exhale, and the other man curled around him makes a soft noise of inquiry.

“Feel okay?”

“Mmhmm,” the hero mumbles, not opening his eyes, and Acacius smiles.

The Agent, on the other hand, is much like himself, in that he seems to be just as comfortable in a position of power as he is in submission. Marcus hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the man as he guided the hero through his first time receiving–gentle, but firm, one hand wrapped around the man’s cock and the other grasping his shoulder for leverage, his fingers always reaching possessively for his neck. Marcus Pike does not simply take a lover, the General concluded, he desires to own them.

It was that obvious possessiveness that had kept Marcus from insisting the Agent share with the others the night previous, allowing him to be the sole proprietor of your pleasure–but the way the man had shuddered at the sight of his beloved with his own thick cock down your throat gave him less qualms about the matter today.

And if that resulted in Marcus delighting in the hot, wet clutch of your cunt for himself, that was simply a fringe benefit, was it not? Oh, you were a sweet one, and it was easy to see why Pike was completely enraptured. You whimpered so beautifully when he broke you open for the first time, squirming around his cock with a little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead. When the Agent reached down to palm your cheek and soothe you through it, you greedily sucked his thumb into your mouth and bit down gently, eliciting a soft groan from the man.

Marcus eventually flipped you on your stomach to take you fast and hard, mirroring the intensity of the two men beside you. You were delirious, drunk on your own pleasure, but still had the presence of mind to reach out and stroke the cheek of the Hero, who was moaning into the pillow next to you. You smiled softly, seeing the other man’s overwhelmed expression, and moved yourself closer to him. The two of you were still tangled together when you reached the point of ecstasy.

You’re curled into Marcus’s chest now, your soft breaths disturbing the smattering of hair and your warm body leaving his own glistening with sweat. You beside him, the Hero sprawled bonelessly on top of him, and the Agent with his arm draped over top, his fingers brushing against the top of his pubic bone–and Marcus Acacius feels utterly at peace.

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tintinn16 · 3 months ago

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The Rift - Chapter Six

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: M/M/M/F dynamics, lots of m/m action, blow jobs, rimming, oral sex, unprotected PIV sex AND anal sex (this is fiction!!!). If I've left anything obvious out please let me know.

Summary: The tension between the four of you finally comes to a head.

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself. I'm honestly a little nervous to post this, because writing this was difficult (in the technical sense). Most of my mental energy was spent trying to keep track of what four people are doing at any given moment and trying to keep track of which Marcus is speaking, so I'm honestly not entirely sure if it's sexy or not. Let me know, LMAO.

Masterlist | Chapter Five | Next chapter>>

Marcus Acacius moves quickly. Sitting sideways on the couch, he gently guides you back against his chest.

“I cannot deny that I enjoy the hard angles of another man,” he says lowly, dragging his hands indulgently up and down the sides of your body, “but there is nothing quite like the softness of a woman. You,” he says to Marcus Pike, jerking his head toward the man next to him, “kiss him. He wants you to desperately, I can see it in his eyes.”

The Agent tears his gaze from the sight of you being caressed by the General and turns to Marcus Moreno.

“Desperately,” he teases, gently taking hold of the man's belt loops and pulling their bodies flush together.

“Exaggeration,” Moreno grins, but you can see the way his eyes are fixed on the other man's lips from the other end of the couch.

“Sure,” Marcus murmurs, and presses their lips together.

The Hero whimpers softly into the kiss, and the other man takes the hint and deepens it, tilting his mouth and bringing his hand up to guide Moreno’s jaw.

“Does it excite you?” The Roman rasps in your ear. He licks a stripe up the shell of it before continuing, “The sight of two beautiful men locked in an embrace?”

Giddily, you nod. In your wildest dreams you've never imagined seeing Marcus Pike quite like this. He kisses the other man with a gentle passion, but there's strength in his movements, a quiet command that leaves you with no doubt as to who is in charge.

And it's not the leader of the Heroics.

Marcus Moreno’s hands are clenched around fistfuls of the other man’s shirt, and when Pike’s tongue darts out to taste him, the sound that escapes the hero's mouth is nothing short of desperate.

You can see the way the Agent smiles into the kiss.

“Sorry,” the hero murmurs against his lips. “It's been too long, and I–”

“Shh, I know. It's okay.”

The General’s hands become bolder, teasing your breasts through your shirt and pressing gently against your clothed core. “I want to see their cocks,” he says, the movement of his lips tickling the skin of your neck. “What do you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly. “Wanna see that.”

“The lady has spoken,” Acacius says imperiously. “I think you should obey.”

Moreno is already fumbling for the button on the other man's pants before the words have even left his mouth. The Heroic seems to take charge this time, spinning Pike around so that his back is pressed against his chest and he has easy access to hastily free the man's cock, barely opening his pants before wrapping his fist around it and pumping firmly. With his free hand, he manages to undo his own pants, roughly shoving them partway down his hips and pressing his bare cock against the other man's lower back.

“Fuck,” Marcus Pike gasps. “Shit.”

You pant breathily as the man behind you lightly pinches your nipples through your clothes. The Agent clocks it immediately, his eyes snapping to the two of you even as the hero continues to pump his cock.

“This man lied to me before,” the Roman growls in your ear. His hands go to the hem of your shirt as he slowly begins to peel it off and over your head. “He is so taken with you that he cannot determine whether the sight of me disrobing you makes him mad with desire or jealousy.”

“But I'm going to make him a deal,” he continues as he gently slides your leggings and underwear down your legs. “If he speaks the truth now, while my hands are on you, he will be the first to taste you.”

“Tell her,” Moreno murmurs playfully, nibbling on the man's earlobe. “It's more than obvious to everyone here.”

“Enamored,” Marcus says immediately, staring at you with pure, unadulterated adoration. “Besotted. Captivated. Enchanted. Completely and utterly fucked–I never even had a chance.”

“Come taste her lips,” the Roman orders softly, and Marcus is there in seconds, kissing you over and over while the General’s large hands cage your cheeks and guide you against his mouth.

“Thank you,” he moans over and over against your lips, never stopping the kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The man behind you cards one hand through Pike’s hair as a reward, and he groans wantonly at the feel of him pulling softly on the strands.

“Come, Hero,” the General murmurs. “My lips have been left wanting.”

You feel the heat of the Hero’s body beside you as he joins the three of you in a heap at the edge of the couch. Acacius makes a soft sound in his chest that you feel, rather than hear as Moreno kisses him.

“We should go to your bedroom,” Marcus Pike says against your lips. “Not a lot of room on this couch.”

“You're going to have to let me up first,” you giggle breathlessly. He shows no sign of ceasing the endless kisses he bestows upon you again and again.

“Let us go,” the Roman says decisively. “More room is needed for all the ways I plan to enjoy all of you.”

It’s a miracle that the four of you make it to the bedroom, the way you all continue to reach for each other. The moment your Marcus comes up for air, the General kisses him hungrily in turn. You look shyly at the leader of the Heroics, biting your lower lip at the way his bare cock still juts proudly between his legs.

“Can I kiss her?” Moreno asks softly, but he’s already reaching for you.

Marcus Pike makes an enthusiastic noise of assent as the other man all but devours him, and the Hero huffs in amusement before bending down to gently capture your lips. The kiss is cautious at first, but when you drag your hands down your chest and lower, giving into the temptation to touch Marcus Moreno’s actual cock, he groans and pulls you roughly against him. He miscalculates his strength and sends the two of you stumbling into the other two men, who both make the same noise of surprise as the four of you tumble in a heap onto your bed.

“I wanna taste,” your Marcus begs as soon as he has you naked and spread out beneath him. “You promised me a taste.”

The Roman chuckles low in his throat. “I did promise, but it would be rude to keep her all to yourself, no?”

“What do you have in mind?” the Agent asks distractedly, his eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs as he lowers himself down onto his stomach before you.

“Think of how sweet her noises of pleasure would sound with a cock filling her throat.”

You whimper pitifully and give him a frantic nod. “Yes please,” you say quickly.

Pike laughs. “Greedy,” he teases gently. “We’re going to spoil you, aren’t we?”

He’s still smiling as he licks the first stripe through your wet folds, and you arch your back and gasp at the feel of his tongue. He buries himself between your legs like he no longer needs air, but his eyes are fixed on the way the Roman is undressing above him. Your eyes can’t settle between watching Marcus eat you out and admiring the broad, strong body beside you.

When the man’s cock bounces free, though, you can’t look away from his thick, heavy girth until suddenly, Marcus makes a desperate, broken yelp into your pussy. When you look back at him, the scene in front of you almost makes you come then and there.

The leader of the Heroics is on his knees too, with his face buried between the other man’s cheeks, moaning as he teases his puckered hole with his tongue. The sensation causes Pike to slump forward on his elbows, and he moans loudly over and over as he fucks you with his tongue.

“You are filthier than I expected, Hero,” the Roman teases. He takes your face in one hand and gently turns your head to the side. With the other hand, he slowly feeds you his cock. The weight of it fills your mouth, but he doesn’t push into your throat–not yet. He’s cognizant of his size, and clearly used to moving carefully. You whimper over and over around him, drunk on the feeling of Marcus’s tongue on your pussy and the other man’s cock gently fucking your mouth. You want more, though, and you try to move closer, bringing his cock further into your throat.

“Oh, she is greedy, is she not?” Acacius teases roughly. “She wants to be speared by your tongue and my cock.”

He gives you what you were desperately squirming for–pushing deeper into your throat until he’s buried almost to the hilt.

“What lucky men we are,” he praises you softly. “How well this pretty little mouth takes a cock.”

Marcus Pike’s hands are rough on your thighs as he expertly brings you barreling toward an orgasm. He’s still whimpering into your cunt as the man behind him pushes even deeper with his tongue. Marcus Acacius’s cock is choking you and making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen, and when you finally fall apart, you sob and moan and cry around him.

“Sweet girl, so good, takes a cock so well,” he rasps as he withdraws his cock from your mouth. You make a small sound of disappointment, and he chuckles. “The night has only just started, little dove, and there are countless other ways we are going to see you come undone.”

Your Marcus presses one last chaste kiss to the tip of your clit and then collapses on his back beside you on the bed, reaching for Moreno and pulling him until his head is resting on his glistening chest. The Roman lies down beside you as well, trailing his fingers up and down the soft well of your stomach.

“Tell me, little dove, have you ever taken three cocks?”

You nearly swallow your tongue. “...No?” you laugh nervously.

Marcus Pike chuckles and leans over to kiss your shoulder. “But what a sight that would make, hmm?” he teases.

“As pretty as she would look with that pretty cunt stretched around all of us,” Acacius chuckles, “I had something else in mind for tonight.”

“Plenty of time to fulfill every possible fantasy,” the Heroic remarks lightly, kissing a path down the Agent’s chest.

“Time tonight, or time in general?” Pike murmurs.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on leaving this bed for at least two days,” Moreno jokes.

“Handsome,” Acacius murmurs, capturing Pike’s lower lip between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing gently back and forth. “Have you been taken by a man?”

Marcus grins. “It’s been a long time, but yeah.” He cards his fingers through the hair of the man still resting on his chest. “You?”

The heroic flushes. “I’m… I’m usually the one doing the taking,” he admits with a little shrug.

The Roman laughs. “You haven’t experienced all that pleasure has to offer until you have tried both.” He brushes your hair back from your forehead. “But I still want to give your beloved a little reward for his earlier honesty.”

You smile conspiratorially. “I’m listening.”

“He wants to be the first to claim you tonight,” he remarks. “And I find I wish to be the first to claim him.”

Your Marcus shudders and groans deep in his chest. “Fuck. Maybe I should be worried about the three of you spoiling me.”

“It would please me to be taken by you,” Acacius says to Moreno, who swallows thickly in anticipation. Turning to you, he asks, “Do you have oil?”

“I–I’ve got lube,” you say with a shrug.

“This word is not being translated,” he frowns.

“It’s like oil,” Pike explains. “But intended only for sex.”

“I like this time more and more,” Acacius says, and laughs at his own joke.

You reach into the bedside table and bring it out of the drawer, handing it to the Roman. He inspects it with curiosity before popping open the lid and spreading some on his fingers and cock. He hands it to Moreno, who takes it, holding the man’s eyes with an intense, burning gaze.

“Lie down on your side,” the Roman orders. “It will be easier that way with so many of us.”

“Done this before, have you?” the Agent jokes as he obeys, gently rolling you over on your side and then spooning behind you.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Marcus Acacius takes his place next to Pike, grasping his hip and nipping his neck playfully. “Enter her, but do not move,” he murmurs into his ear.

“Give me some of that,” your Marcus says, holding his hand out toward the leader of the Heroics, who squeezes a little bit on his palm. He slicks his cock, and then gently rubs the rest over your folds, dipping his fingers into you just slightly. “I’ve thought of this,” he murmurs to you as he lines up his cock. “Well, not exactly this scenario, but I’ve certainly wished for this.”

“This night wasn’t in your wildest dreams?” you tease as the tip of him breaches you. You exhale shudderingly as he buries himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

“He has thought of all of us separately,” The Roman says confidently. Marcus gasps softly in your ear as the man’s finger eases inside.

“H-How on earth do you know that?” Pike asks disbelievingly.

“I did not,” he answers. “But now we all know it to be true.”

“Two thousand years between our times, and somehow you’re still a bastard.” Pike grunts. “Shit!” he yelps suddenly–you assume the Roman cheekily added another finger in retribution.

“Behave, or I will give you my cock before you are ready,” he growls playfully. You see Marcus Moreno shift behind him, and the Roman lets out a deep rumble of approval as the other man begins to work him open.

Your Marcus plays with your clit absentmindedly, making soft sounds of pleasure in your ear as the man behind him continues with his fingers.

The room is quiet for a little while, filled only with the soft noises of enjoyment from each of you until Marcus Pike finally breaks the silence.

“Enough teasing, just do it,” he murmurs, reaching behind him to pull at the Roman’s thick cock.

You expect the man to tease, but he has nothing to say for once. He presses himself flush against the other man and slowly pushes in.

You know the moment his cock breaches him by the way your Marcus’s hands suddenly flex and grip you with white knuckles. You do your best to soothe him, reaching back to stroke his cheek and whispering sweet nothings interlaced with what you’re sure is nonsense.

“Oh, fuck,” he whipmers over and over. “Oh shit–fuck–oh my God…”

You hear the Roman softly murmuring in his ear, telling him to relax, to let him in. When he’s finally buried to the hilt–and fuck, you know from how deep his cock could reach down your throat that Marcus must be completely overwhelmed by the man’s size–Acacius reaches for Marcus Moreno.

You’re suddenly hit with the strange thought that all four of you are now connected to each other. It’s intensely intimate; you can feel the breaths of all three men behind you, can sense the rise and fall of their chests. The Roman reaches his arm around both you and Marcus, grasps one of your breasts, and uses the leverage to pull you closer together–and burying himself even deeper.

“What now?” you hear the Hero whisper humorously behind you. You can tell he’s half-joking, half-earnest, unsure, as you are, of how the four of you… begin.

“We move together,” Acacius says simply. “In unison. Here, I will–”

He flexes his hips, pushing Pike further into you and eliciting another broken moan from the man currently buried deep in your pussy.

“This way is more slow, but easier to manage all of the limbs, yes?” he says playfully.

“I can’t imagine the feeling of taking you fast,” the Agent jokes.

“Next time.”

“That’s fine, because I–oh, fuck–I’m not gonna last, feels too good.”

“Mmhmm,” Marcus Moreno moans in agreement. “Forgot how good it feels to–hnng–”

“Make her come,” the Roman commands. “No one comes until she does.”

“Come for us,” Marcus agrees as he rubs circles into your clit. “Please, baby, before I can’t hold it in any longer.”

One of the men increases the speed and intensity of the thrusts, and all of you moan in sync. You can hear all three of them praising you, pleading with you to come, baby, come for us and it doesn't take much more for you to fall apart in their arms.

Marcus Pike follows almost immediately–the added stimulation of you clenching around his cock pushing him over the edge with a strangled cry, overcome by the intensity.

Moreno’s hips stutter too, and he pushes deep with one last thrust and empties himself into the General.

“Sweet boy,” the man croons, soothing the man in front of him as he chases his own end. He’s sensitive post-orgasm, and he whimpers softly at each punch of Acacius’s cock against his prostate until he finally stills, one hand holding Pike steady as he spills inside of him.

The Agent curls into you, his chest heaving and his forehead slick with sweat, and completely overcome.

“That was—wow,” he pants under his breath.

Marcus Acacius chuckles softly as he carefully separates from the man, eliciting one more broken groan into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Mmph,” he answers.

“He appears to be completely spent,” the Roman teases.

“He’s not the only one,” Moreno laughs, pulling out and collapsing on the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “That was incredible.”

“I will return shortly,” Acacius says abruptly, and gets up from the bed, striding confidently into your bathroom.

The Heroic flops over into the empty space and curls against the Agent’s back with a soft noise of contentment.

“I had further plans for tonight,” Acacius says as he returns carrying a warm, damp cloth, “but it appears they will have to wait until after you have rested.”

Despite his bravado, he cleans the three of you with a soft tenderness that makes you ache inside. When he finishes, he carefully places the cloth into the basket you’d instructed him to place his dirty clothes weeks ago, and comes back to lie down behind the Hero, snuggling up against him with a little wiggle of his hips.

“Someone turn the light off,” Pike grumbles.

“Not it,” you murmur back.

“I’ve got it.” Moreno tiredly extends his hand. Across the room, a little metal tin that once used to contain tea bags and now holds safety pins rises up from your dresser and levitates across the room to the lightswitch. It hovers over the little lever and then descends, flicking the switch off and bathing the room in darkness.

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tintinn16 · 3 months ago

Text

Would you mind adding me to the taglist?

Closed Position: Week 5 (Rumba Part 3)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Chapter Word Count: 13.5k

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter being a menace, improper use of a seat belt, Dieter with a guitar, serious sexual tension, improper ballroom dancing, Dieter's mouth, blasphemy (because of Dieter's mouth), smut, aftercare, fluff, and maybe a smidge of angst

Chapter Quote: “You know you wanna do it with me. Let’s cause a scene.”

Kat's POV

On Friday, I awoke sweaty and aroused. I was almost certain I had been having a sex dream…about Dieter. That was a new experience. I was equal parts mortified and angry that the alarm woke me up before the climax.

I sat up and stretched before reaching over to grab my phone and water bottle from the nightstand, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink as I unlocked my phone. I turned my attention to email first, opening the app to make sure I didn’t have any new marching orders from Stacia and Joe. I didn’t, but there was an email from the medical clinic indicating that my test results were now available. I figured everything was probably fine, but that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking as I logged into their portal to check. I sighed in relief as I skimmed down the page, all negative. At least that was one less thing to worry about. I closed that app, then noticed there were new Instagram notifications. Dieter had apparently posted a couple of new stories. The first was a picture he had taken of me last night before dinner. I balked when I saw the included text said “My dance partner is hotter than yours,” with the hashtag #YourLoss.

(Click pics to enlarge. More after the jump.)

That didn’t do anything to help my current state of arousal. The fact that he absolutely did not give a fuck was a serious turn on. However, I knew it was going to cause some raised eyebrows.

I sent a quick reply to the story, “Dieter, seriously?🤦🏻‍♀️😂”

My eyes rolled at his ridiculousness as I moved to take another drink of my water. I nearly choked, spilling half of it down the front of my shirt as his next story popped up on the screen. It was a mirror selfie of him sitting on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs and brown leather jacket. Once I finally stopped coughing, I audibly groaned. He looked so fucking good. Without a second thought, I took a screenshot, just as there was a knock at my door. I quickly locked my phone as I yelled “come in”, realizing too late that I probably looked like a hot mess. Dieter popped his head around the door, “Hey sleeping beauty…what in the world happened to you?”

I looked down at my shirt and rubbed aimlessly, “I spilled my water.” Because of you, you beautiful fucking tease. “What’s up?”

He looked amused, “I’m gonna go grab us some breakfast. I’ll be back.”

I gave him a deadpan stare, “I hope you found your pants.”

He snorted, “Unfortunately for you, I did.”

Fucker. I narrowed my eyes and chucked a pillow toward his face, “Shut up. Get out of here.”

He laughed loudly as he pulled the door shut behind him. I heard the main door to the suite open and close a few minutes later. I screwed the lid back on my water and put it on the nightstand, huffing in frustration as I fell back onto the bed. His mere existence was making me crazy. At least we only had two days left here because I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle. I sighed, pulling up the screenshot of his story. Something about it caused the ache between my thighs to become almost painful.

I scoffed, “Oh fuck this. I can’t take it anymore.”

I tossed my phone down beside me, then settled back into the pillow and closed my eyes. One hand sliding up my shirt to knead my breast while the other found its way under the waistband of my sleep shorts. I was soaking wet to the point that it was embarrassing. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this aroused. It was almost shocking considering it was over something so small. Or was it? Maybe it had just been building all week and was finally at a breaking point.

I fought it at first, trying to think of anything but Dieter, but my mind kept going back to him sitting on the edge of the bed, thick thighs spread wide with that smoldering look on his face. Then my thoughts shifted to his large hands being the ones touching me. Now knowing how good he was with his hands had me craving his touch over every inch of my skin. I could only imagine how good it would feel for him to massage other parts of my body. Something told me he wouldn’t disappoint.

I could feel the tension building, stretching so tight that it had me sweaty and gasping for air, but wouldn’t progress further than that. I was stuck on the edge, unable to finish. I think part of me knew allowing my thoughts to wander down this path was a terrible idea and was still fighting it. I stopped my ministrations, huffing loudly from frustration. Setting up, I sought out my suitcase to find the small vibrator I had brought. I should’ve just started with that.

After searching it out, I settled into bed again, trying to get back in my zone with light touches, working my way up to it. Now that I allowed myself to freely think of Dieter, I seemed to get to the edge a lot quicker this time. Just as I turned the vibrator on, I heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by Dieter yelling, “Food’s here!”

I turned the vibrator off and shoved it under my pillow, kicking my legs, groaning, and wanting to cry. How the hell is he back already? If I didn’t do something about this soon, I was going to spontaneously combust.

I rolled out of bed, pulling my hair up into a messy bun as I walked out into the living room. Dieter stared at me with furrowed brows.

“You good? You look flushed…again.”

Fuck. “Y-Yeah, I was just doing some yoga.”

His brows arched, “You could do that in here ya know…where there’s more space. I promise I won’t gawk…too much…but maybe avoid the downward dog. I don’t need to see that.”

I could feel the wetness on the inside of my thighs, suddenly thinking about how a little yoga session could turn dirty really fast under the right circumstances.

I shook my head to clear that thought, remembering his last comment.

“Why don’t you need to see that?” I asked.

His face turned pink as he chuckled nervously, “Seriously? I’ve already told you that you have a nice ass. I wouldn’t be able to look away.”

So, he’s an ass man. Got it. I snorted, “Well, at least you’re honest.”

My eyes raked over the spread of food that he was now pulling out of bags, “Where did you go for all of this? That was super-fast.”

“There’s a diner just around the corner. I called it in and it was ready to go when I got there.”

I nodded. That explains it. Of all days to get something quick…damn him.

We sat down to eat. It took everything in me not to be distracted by the burning urge at my core. It eventually passed as we discussed the day’s schedule. Then I had to rush and get ready to head to the studio with him. It was dress rehearsal day, which I was pretty excited about. I couldn’t wait to see Dieter in action.

Most of my day was spent standing around, watching Dieter and the cast go through the skits. During breaks he would come over to ask me for feedback. Overall I thought he was doing amazing. The way he could just turn it on and go into character fascinated me. He was so witty, and his timing was spot on. I could already tell the show was going to go well if it turned out to be anything like the dress rehearsals. I did appreciate that he took any suggestions I made as being constructive. He didn’t seem offended and even welcomed the input, giving my ideas a try on the next run through.

By lunchtime, I was beginning to feel achy. The week’s chaotic schedule was catching up to me and I had hardly taken any self-care measures to avoid it. I’m sure the pent up tension I had been feeling didn’t help matters either.

Dieter came to sit next to me at the table with our DoorDash delivery and began pulling food out of the bag as he eyed me popping two anti-inflammatory tablets.

“You feeling ok?” he asked.

I slumped back in my seat and puffed air out through my cheeks, “Yeah…I’m just getting a little run down. My joints are protesting and determined to ruin my day. I think I may take advantage of that soaking tub tonight. It might help.”

Dieter gave me a sympathetic look, “Anything I can do to help? I can go get you some herbal tea. Turmeric, ginger, and white willow bark are good anti-inflammatories. I drink those when my back bothers me.”

I was surprised he offered such a thing, but I really shouldn’t have been. The man knows his plants, of course that would carry over to herbal remedies. He also seemed to have a tendency to try and take care of me.

I reached over and squeezed his knee, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine…I think. I’ll keep it in mind though.”

He looked disappointed as he took a bite of his sub sandwich, chewing thoughtfully for a moment.

“We’ve still got a few more skits to rehearse. Why don’t you go relax in my dressing room for a bit…get off your feet…we can do the monologue run through last.”

I made a pouty face as I picked at my sandwich, “But then I won’t get to watch you rehearse.”

“I mean…you don’t have to, it was only a suggestion…just wanna make sure you're not hurting. I need you on top of your game after all.”

I smiled at his meager attempt at a joke, “You know what, I may actually take you up on that offer. At least long enough for the pain meds to kick in.” I would never admit it to him, but I was actually starting to ache bad enough that it was getting hard to ignore.

He nodded, “Good.”

That seemed to placate him for now. I did appreciate his concern. At least he showed me that he cared. It was more than Alec ever did.

After I finished my sandwich, I stood and perched against the table beside Dieter, who was now scrolling on his phone.

“How long do you think it’ll take you all to finish up?”

Without looking up from his phone, his hand reached out toward me, slipping around my lower back before pulling me into his side. His hand came to rest on my hip as he finally looked up at me from where he was still sitting in the chair.

It took me off guard, but I didn’t hate it. I responded by leaning into him and resting my hand at the nape of his neck. My fingers inched toward his curls, hesitating briefly before moving to scratch lightly at his scalp. It had to be one of the most casually intimate interactions we had ever had. I wanted more.

When our eyes met, my breath hitched. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. I could feel his thumb running across the small area of exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up, causing goosebumps to form over my entire body. It would be so easy to crawl into his lap and kiss him right now. I exhaled slowly, attempting to focus my thoughts on something else.

Dieter seemed to have been momentarily distracted too, but eventually gave me a small smile, seeming to remember that I had asked him a question.

“I’ll come get you during our next break. Feel free to take a nap if you want. The leather sofa is pretty comfortable, but I can’t promise how clean it is. No telling who has been in that room…”

I snorted out a laugh, “Noted.”

I moved to leave, but his hand tightened on my hip. His gaze turned more intense, “Promise you’ll let me know if you need anything? I’ll go get whatever you want.”

I smiled at him and ran my fingers through the top of his hair, brushing it away from his eyes. It felt strangely satisfying to do. “Don’t worry, I will. I promise. It’s not that bad, really.”

He studied my face for a moment, seemingly satisfied with my response before dropping his arm. I was suddenly feeling much better and didn’t want to leave him after that exchange, but I didn’t want to try and explain my sudden recovery because it had everything to do with him.

After that, I made my way to his dressing room and immediately sunk down onto the plushy leather sofa. There was a blanket draped over the back that seemed questionable, but I sort of didn’t care, wrapping myself up in it as I settled in for a nap. I was out as soon as I laid my head down. Hazy dreams that I wouldn’t remember followed. Only traces of the way it made me feel would remain - warm, safe, loved, and blissfully happy.

I awoke sometime later to Dieter sitting on the edge of the couch beside me, his hand on my hip giving a gentle shake. He was looking at me with a smirk as I groaned and wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. How you feeling?”

I moved to sit up, his hand sliding down to rest on the side of my thigh in the process.

“Better, I think. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve both been a little sleep deprived the last few days.”

He stood, “You ready to go over the monologue?”

I laughed nervously, “I suppose. This is about to be a disaster…”

Dieter shook his head, “Nope, you’ve got this. Just focus on me and the cue cards if you need them. Forget anyone else is in the room.”

That’s easy to do. I do it often enough. I stood and followed him out to the stage, both of us taking our places. The first time through was…rough. By the fourth time, I relaxed into it some, creating a playful banter between us, which was the goal. Dieter’s facial expressions to my joking insults were so on point. It was hard for me to keep from laughing. I really hoped I could keep it together during the live shows. The fifth and final time, we managed to nail it, which left me feeling much more confident about the whole thing.

Dieter and I were standing just in front of the stage exchanging notes on our last run through when one of the writers, Judy, came over and invited us out for open mic night at a local blues club. I knew there would probably be alcohol there, so I was tempted to decline. I glanced over at Dieter with a questioning look, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

Dieter shrugged, “We could spare a couple of hours, right? I wouldn’t mind getting you up on stage...” A mischievous grin was now plastered across his face as I started to shake my head.

“Nope. Not happening, Bravo.”

Judy’s eyes lit up, “Wait, do you sing?”

Dieter bumped his shoulder against mine, still smiling, “She sings and plays. She’s amazing.”

I was still shaking my head, “Dieter, no. I refuse.”

He put an arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side as he leaned in close to my ear, “I’ll do it if you will.”

I sighed, “Now you’re playing dirty…asshole.”

Dieter snorted out a laugh as Judy grabbed my arm, “Come on Kat, it’ll be a good time. It would be amazing to see you two do something like that together.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Alright fine. We can go…but I’m not making any promises.”

Dieter bear hugged me, shaking me from side to side as he yelled “Yaaaaasss” a little louder than necessary. I laughed and rolled my eyes at his enthusiasm. Judy snickered at Dieter’s antics, “Great, I’ll let everyone know you’re coming. You can share a ride with us if you don’t mind being squished in. It’s not that far away.”

Dieter glanced over at me, a smirk on his lips, “That’s fine, Kat can sit on my lap if need be.”

Fucking hell. Why is he torturing me like this? I narrowed my eyes on him as Judy chuckled, “Cool, I’ll go gather everyone up.”

After she walked away, I leaned over to Dieter and quietly asked, “You sure this is ok? You know they’ll probably be drinking…”

He sighed, “I’m gonna have to be around it at some point. It’s inevitable.” He gave me a soft smile as he took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine, “Besides…you’re gonna be there with me, so I’ll be fine.”

His eyes crinkled around the edges as his smile grew. I could tell that he believed what he was saying. It caused butterflies to form in my stomach when I considered the possible implications behind his words.

A short time later, a group of us squished into the back of a black SUV. Dieter sat in the very back corner. I hopped in behind him. Just as I was about to settle into the seat, he pulled me onto his lap, sitting me at an angle across his thighs. He wordlessly reached up behind him with his left hand to pull the seat belt out and motioned for me to fasten it around the both of us. Judy and one other person slid onto the bench seat beside us as he wrapped his arms around my middle and hugged me against his chest.

Dieter’s proximity caused him to completely invade all of my senses. His face was close enough to mine that I could almost taste his lips. I was cocooned in his smell and warmth, causing me to melt into his embrace. I could feel his hot breath blowing against the side of my neck and hear it hitch as I smiled shyly at him. The sight of his rounded brown eyes gazing deeply into mine made my heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, the world fell away, and it was just us getting lost in each other's eyes. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth before turning his attention to Judy who had apparently asked a question.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he said almost in a daze.

“Do you play too?” she asked again.

Dieter shrugged, “I guess you could call it that.”

I smiled down at him, “He plays the guitar and sings. He’s really good.”

A smile tugged at his lips as a blush crept across his cheeks. He squeezed me a little tighter as he leaned his forehead against my jaw.

Judy clapped her hands excitedly, “This is gonna be so much fun.”

I wished I shared her enthusiasm, but I couldn’t. Dieter laughed, his eyes meeting mine again.

“You gonna have some fun with me, Kit Kat?” My brow arched. Fucking tease.

I shifted to put my arm around his neck, “Depends on which definition of fun we’re talking about.”

His left hand that now rested on my hip gripped a little tighter as his eyes roamed over my face. I could tell he wasn’t sure how to take that comment. Good. Stew on that one. One side of his lips tugged upward, “I’m open to trying any definition of your choosing.”

My jaw nearly dropped. What. The. Fuck. Is he doing? I glanced around the car, worried someone was going to hear us, but everyone now seemed engrossed in one of the multiple conversations happening between the occupants. I could feel myself relax knowing that they all seemed distracted.

He shifted to lean in closer, causing his right hand to slide up my jean covered thigh a few inches. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke in a low gravelly voice, “We gonna rehearse for a bit after this?”

When he pulled away I couldn’t help staring at his pouty bottom lip briefly before my eyes flicked up to his. I nodded, “I’m not gonna let you get out of it that easily. You still need a little work.”

He chuckled, “Right…Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

I gave him an admonishing look over the pet name as he fought a smile. We were interrupted by the opening of doors, having arrived at the club.

The club wasn’t really what I was expecting. The walls were dark, but it was hard to tell what color they actually were because every inch of the place was bathed in a crimson glow from the red lantern like light fixtures hanging overhead. A decently sized stage sat in the center of the room with equipment scattered about. The stage was surrounded by tables and plushy booths where people sat enjoying meals. A bar lined the wall on the far side, which made me cringe a little, but overall the atmosphere seemed very chill. It didn’t give off any sort of party vibe.

We were seated at a large table next to the stage. Judy sat on one side of me, Dieter on the other. I sat in silence taking in my surroundings while Dieter chatted away with one of the cast members seated on the other side of him. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and eager to engage with him. It appeared that whatever damage he had caused during his previous time with them had been repaired. It made me happy that he was making progress in that area because I knew how worried he had been about it.

A server soon appeared and began taking everyone’s drink order. To my surprise, not a single person ordered alcohol. I briefly wondered if that was something they had discussed as a group beforehand or not. Either way, I appreciated it. Dieter was still chattering away so I’m sure he hadn’t even noticed.

I had just started flipping through the menu when, without a word, Dieter grabbed my chair and pulled me closer to his side. I looked up at him with furrowed brows. He gave me a cheesy smile as he rested his arm along the back of my seat, “I didn’t get a menu. Gotta share. What are we getting?”

I gave him a disbelieving smile and rolled my eyes, tilting the menu toward him so he could look at it with me. By this point in the week, we had gotten into the habit of picking out meals that we both wanted to try so we could sample each other’s dishes. I settled on the blackened chicken carbonara while he went with a Cajun chicken and shrimp pasta.

After ordering, his arm remained around the back of my chair as he leaned in closer to talk to Judy on the other side of me. His full attention seemed to be on her, yet his fingers had found their way to the back of my hair, lightly stroking through it as he talked. I tried to be present during their conversation, but it was hard to focus on anything other than his soft touch. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what the hell they were talking about.

Our attention was soon drawn to the stage as open mic night got underway. The host of the evening, Brian, was already badgering people to go sign up before it even started. Before he introduced the first performer, he caught sight of Dieter sitting in front of the stage. He stopped mid-sentence and changed course, “OH Damn, we got Dieter Bravo in the house tonight y’all!”

His eyes shifted to me as the room whooped and whistled, “AND Kat Stamos is here too! Y’all shouldn’t have sat next to the stage. Imma be giving you hell all night.”

We all laughed, but I felt like I was dying inside just a little bit. I hated being the center of attention like this. Judy took that moment to yell out, “Get them up on stage!” Fucking hell.

Brian’s eyebrows arched, “Oh you guys gonna perform for us?”

I shook my head as Dieter tried to laugh it off. He must have sensed my nervousness because his free hand found its way to my thigh and squeezed gently.

Brian laughed, “I’ll come back to you later. I’m not lettin’ that go.” Everyone cheered. Fuck. This is not how I saw the evening going. The host finally moved on to introducing the first performer just as our dinner was served. Aside from taste testing each other's food, we ate mostly in silence, enjoying the soulful blues performances taking place mere feet from us. I thought we had escaped the wrath of Brian, but I was wrong. Just as we were finishing up, Brian was back on stage asking if anyone wanted to fill the next open slot. When no one came forward, his eyes focused on us.

“A little birdy told me that Dieter and Kat have some hidden talents. I think this would be a good time to get them up here!”

I glanced over at Judy, who looked guilty before her nervous smile turned to an encouraging one. I felt a sudden adrenaline rush coursing through me as I turned to Dieter. A small part of me really wanted to see him sing and play on stage.

“Go on, get to it. You said you would do it,” I teased with a smile.

He shook his head, “No, I said I would, if you did. You gotta come too.”

He stood up, which seemed to get the crowd riled up further, “Come on Kit Kat. You know you wanna do it with me. Let’s cause a scene.”

I laughed. This is NOT what I wanna do with you, sir. I puffed air out of my cheeks. “Fine…but you owe me a solo performance too.”

“You let me pick the song and I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he replied with a dimpled smile. Fucker. I couldn’t pass that up.

He grabbed my hand, tugging me up out of the seat. The cheers in the room were almost deafening as he pulled me up onto the stage. He grabbed one of the acoustic guitars from the stand, taking a minute to strum and tune it as he chatted with the house band. Brian walked over and offered me a wireless mic before disappearing. The handle felt slick in my sweaty palms as I turned toward Dieter who was moving toward the mic stand in the center of the stage. He gave me a sneaky grin as he worked to raise the stand to his height. I smiled at him nervously as I raised my mic to speak, “Alright Bravo, what's it gonna be?”

Dieter was still smiling at me as he strummed a couple bars of the opening notes, waiting for my realization to kick in. It didn’t take long. It was the song I had been humming along to on Wednesday. The one he said that he wanted to hear me sing right before we had the almost kiss, or whatever the hell that was. I chuckled, rolling my eyes at him. He turned to his mic, “I hope you’re ready to have your minds blown by this beautiful and talented woman standing on stage with me.”

I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks as the audience responded with whistles and applause. I couldn’t help hiding behind my hand. I could hear Dieter’s deep rumbling laugh through the sound system. It vibrated through every inch of my body as I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what we were about to do. I had sung in front of crowds before, but that was during family gatherings. This was different, almost daunting. Especially since I knew videos would inevitably find their way online for the world to see.

Dieter turned toward me and leaned in to ask, “You good?”

I gave him a nervous smile, taking another deep breath as I nodded.

“Focus on me if you need to,” he said. I nodded again.

He bumped his shoulder against mine, “Ok, here we go.”

I watched as his thick fingers began to pluck out the opening notes to Blood on a Rose. My eyes met his sultry gaze just as the words to the first verse left my lips. 🎶 (Song link for reference)

Your voice in my ear / The world disappears / So I'll fall again / You can keep me right here / Haunting my soul / A beautiful thorn / You rapture my heart / Leave me broken and torn

The lyrics were suddenly taking on a new meaning for me. He WAS haunting my soul, and I was torn between keeping things professional and completely losing myself to him. I was inching closer to him now, singing only for him. We had seemingly become completely entranced by each other as I moved into the chorus.

This love is killing me / The pain must be part of the cure / It's so hard to breathe when I need you so bad that it burns / You are the fire, love is the blood on a rose

I felt every word of it. This game we were playing had turned into nothing short of torture. My desire for him was reaching a new peak as the electricity crackled between us like it never had before. We were connecting in a new way that suddenly felt more intimate than the dancing. Maybe because we could both sense that there was some truth to the lyrics. I couldn’t keep myself from reaching up to brush the curl away that had fallen down over his forehead, then settled my hand on his cheek as I began the next verse.

Lost in your eyes / These ties that bind / Body and soul / Leaving nothing behind / Don't know how to stop / Don't know how to stay / These chains might break / But you like it that way

And lost in his eyes I was. I don’t think either of us had broken eye contact since the first note of music sounded. We were standing so close together by the time I went into the next round of the chorus that I could have easily leaned in to kiss him if there hadn't been a guitar between us. After a short building instrumental interlude, he shifted, angling the guitar in front of me. He leaned in toward the mic just as I started the final two refrains of the chorus and joined in.

The rush that I felt from his closeness was insane. My entire body was tingling and covered in goosebumps with his face now inches from mine, our gazes still locked as he belted out the words, harmonizing perfectly with me. Sharing this moment and this part of myself with him was waking something up inside of me. A craving unlike anything I had ever felt, and he was the only one that could satisfy it.

When the song ended, we just sort of stared at each other for a few beats as applause and cheers broke out around us. He smirked as he pulled me into his side and kissed me on the cheek. Just as I pulled away, the crowd began to chant “One more!”. I laughed, shaking my head as I raised the mic to speak, “I think the next one is on Dieter. I’m done.”

Dieter gave me his best sad puppy dog look. I shook my head again, “Nope. I’m done. It’s your turn.” He rolled his eyes as I turned to exit the stage, receiving praise as I went. I politely smiled in thanks, moving to take my seat at the table directly in front of where Dieter was now standing.

I could see that he was feeling anxious as he fidgeted with the guitar strap, then adjusted the mic, “Well, I don’t have Kat up here to make me look good anymore.” He laughed nervously, “So, you all better take it easy on me.”

The audience filled with quiet laughter as he turned around, briefly speaking with the house band one more time before returning to the mic. His voice started with the music, slow and deep. Bluesy guitar riffs intermingling with his somber tone. Every word was laced with emotion as his eyes focused on me.

🎶 (Song link for reference)

Bright lights with the side of passion / Nightlife, welcome the attraction / Her satin gloves wrapped all around / She lift me up, then, she knocked me down / I fell in love, she showed me how / She takes a puff and it's curtains now

I was happy to be sitting, because my legs would have given out on me if I hadn’t been. He was literally taking my breath away. This was way more intense than the first time I had seen him sing. I could feel it in my bones - in every cell. I couldn’t handle how fucking perfect and beautiful he was.

Judy grabbed my arm, “I had no idea he sounded like this. He’s so fucking good!”

All I could manage was a small nod, not taking my eyes off him as he transitioned to the chorus.

She drives a camera crazy / I think she knows it / There ain't no one above her and she ain't afraid to own it / The glitz and glamor slay me / But is it hopeless? / This goddess of a woman really gets the people going / Close up, zoom out / From every angle, yeah, she lay me down / Choked up, no doubt / She hard to handle, but she'll keep you 'round

His anxiety appeared to have dissipated. He now seemed slightly cocky even. The rawness and passion in his voice was seriously doing something to me. My thighs were now clenching together under the table. The ache at my center went from zero to painful in an instant. I sighed. This may very well be what finally breaks me.

As he moved into the second verse, something about his expression changed. It was more playful as he fought a smirk, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip during the brief lyrical pauses. His eyes were borderline seductive as he continued to focus on me. Something told me he knew what he was doing, and that thought only made me squirm more. I couldn’t help questioning his song choice. I found myself wondering how much truth was behind the lyrics.

Might bite when they call for action / Shines like she'll evoke reaction / I feel it jump, heart starts to pound / She pulled the plug, really show me now / We fell in love, she showed me how / Hands are cuffed as I slowly drown

By the time he hit the chorus again, he was in full performance mode - sliding the guitar behind his back and gripping the microphone between both hands with confidence. It had to be one of the hottest things I had ever seen. A confident Dieter seemed to be my new weakness.

Everyone in the room collectively lost their minds when he finished. I could hear murmurs around about how amazing he sounded and how surprised everyone was by his talent. He was shocking people left and right this week and I was loving every second of it. I was proud of him and suddenly understood the urge of wanting to show him off. He was MY dance partner after all. If he could use that as an excuse, then so could I.

After a shy “thank you” to the audience, Dieter rejoined us at the table and was met with fist bumps, claps, and pats on the back. He had a dopey grin on his face as he finally sat down beside me. When he noticed me looking at him, his demeanor shifted, seemingly unsure of himself now. I gave him a comforting smile, reaching to lace my fingers with his.

“You did such a good job. I’m a little speechless.”

He huffed out a relieved chuckle, shifting to put his arm along the back of my seat as he leaned in next to my ear, “You were amazing. I could listen to you all night.”

It was my turn to be embarrassed. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks, but I still managed to pluck up the courage to ask, “Those were some interesting song choices. Why did you pick them?”

Dieter leaned back into his chair and took a drink of water with his free hand, seemingly weighing his response. He finally shrugged, “They seemed to fit the mood of the evening.”

He’s being cryptic with that answer. My brows pinched together, “What does that mean?”

A cocky grin spread across his face, “You tell me.”

My mouth opened to speak, then snapped shut. I don’t know what to do with that. What is he insinuating?

We were suddenly interrupted by two younger women who asked to take a selfie with us. We agreed, of course. After they spent a few minutes fawning over us, they thankfully left. Dieter immediately turned his attention back to me, smiling as he draped his arm back around my shoulders.

“I’m almost afraid to check social media after this gets out. You know there’ll be videos,” I said.

He snickered, “Well, let’s beat them to it. Story time!”

Dieter shifted to pull out his phone and snapped a quick selfie of us, then posted it to his Instagram story with a smirk. I’d have to check to see what ridiculousness he added to it later. After setting his phone down on the table, his hand found its way to my thigh and rubbed gently as he asked “When do you wanna head back?”

His gaze locked with mine as I reveled in the sensation from his touch. The thigh touching was new, he did it so casually now and I was loving every second of it. I wanted more.

“Umm, lemme run to the ladies room, then we can go,” I finally said.

Judy’s attention was drawn to me as I got up. I motioned that I was going to the bathroom which prompted her to stand and join me. We had to wait in line for several minutes, quietly chatting amongst ourselves as we did so.

“I’ve gotta say, Dieter has shocked us all this week. He’s like a completely different person. He’s actually been pretty amazing to work with,” she said.

I smiled, “Yeah, I know he’s been working really hard. He was excited to be asked back.”

“I’ll admit, a lot of us were not happy about him coming back at first. He was an absolute asshole last time…when he wasn’t trying to get laid that is. He was a mess.”

That probably shouldn’t bother me, but it sort of did. I had to remind myself that he hadn’t kept his past a secret. I knew he used to sleep around. Maybe it was just starting to hit me differently after the Alec thing.

“Being sober has done him good though. I think you're having a positive impact on him too. He seems much more relaxed when you're around,” she added with a knowing look in her eyes.

My brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “I dunno. He just appears to be…happier maybe? You seem very in tune with each other.” She leaned in closer, “I’ve gotta ask…because I honestly can’t figure you two out…Do you have something going on? Like…are you together?”

I scoffed, “No. Absolutely not. I mean, sure, we’ve gotten close…I understand what he’s going through because my dad had the same issues…And this show and all the drama that comes with it is putting us through the wringer. We’ve just become good friends through all of it.”

She didn’t look convinced, “All I’m gonna say is…he was tryin’ to get with anyone that would give him the time of day last time he was here. Now, he only has eyes for you. That man is one hundred percent into you.”

I laughed nervously, “No he’s not. It’s not like that with us.”

She gave me a doubtful look as she moved to take the next open stall, “If you say so, honey.”

I stood there, a little dumbfounded for a moment. Maybe I wasn’t imagining things?

I tried to put Judy’s words out of my mind as I walked back to the table. I was still trying to convince myself that she was wrong. Do I think he flirts sometimes? Yes. But he’s Dieter fucking Bravo. That’s just how he is. To say he only has eyes for me is a whole other level that I was not fully convinced of yet. Of course, now that I was thinking about it, I couldn’t actually recall having seen him flirt with anyone else. Not even in a joking manner. That had to be because he was comfortable around me though. Right?

As I approached the table, I realized Dieter was saying his goodbyes. He turned to me with a soft smile on his face, “I took care of our bill, and our ride should be here any minute.”

Damn, he didn’t waste any time. I nodded, then turned to bid my farewells to everyone for the evening and thanked them for inviting us. Once finished, Dieter grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd to the exit where we found our Uber already waiting.

The ride back to the hotel was oddly quiet, but I could still feel a strange electricity crackling between us. Something had definitely changed between us tonight. I couldn’t keep my eyes from shifting in his direction and roaming over his profile as he stared out the window of the car. The city lights occasionally illuminated his face in various shades of white, blue, and pink - emphasizing his aquiline nose and pouty lips in a way that was making it hard for me to breathe. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could ignore the feelings I was having toward him. Being with him as much as I had this week was causing a raging monster to grow inside of me, and it wanted him. After tonight, I didn’t think I could lock it away any longer.

Once we reached the hotel, I linked my arm with his as we walked inside toward the elevators. After the elevator doors closed, his arm shifted to wrap around my waist, tucking me into his side. I was suddenly surrounded by the scent of him, earthy and woody with a soft citrus undertone. It was intoxicating and I had to remind myself not to lean in to inhale him. His husky voice broke through my thoughts, “Do you still wanna rehearse some tonight? I guess we probably should, huh?”

I raised my head to look at him, startled by how close his face was to mine. Fuck. He’s beautiful. I cleared my throat, staring up at him through my lashes, “Yeah, I mean…maybe we can just run through it a few times with the music.”

The elevator doors opened to our floor. I moved away from him to exit, “I’m just gonna run and change first. Tight jeans are not ideal…” I added with a chuckle, swiping into the room as I spoke. He nodded, agreeing that he was going to change as well.

I changed into black leggings and a matching zip front sports bra, then met Dieter in the living room. We stuck to our routine of rehearsing on the terrace. It wasn’t a cold night but being up on the top floor definitely made it a little chilly. Dieter made some sort of comment about keeping the blood flowing to stay warm and my thoughts spiraled. The fact that we were stuck doing one of the most intimate dances this week was not helping matters. I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach realizing what we were about to do while I was in my current state. I don’t know if I can do this and keep it together.

I queued up the music using the small Bluetooth speaker and my phone, then hit play on my watch once we got into position. On our first run-through, I messed up several times because I couldn’t concentrate, but we managed to make it through in the midst of laughter. Dieter was completely throwing me off my game with his new found confidence and intense focus. His hesitation with physical contact had disappeared only to be replaced by a cocky smirk and playful glint in his eyes, which was beyond distracting. I felt like he knew what effect it was having on me too.

On our second run-through, we shook off our giggles and managed to focus, if that’s what you could even call it. The electric current between us was buzzing at max levels as we channeled the intimacy of the dance. Our touches became more sensual and less playful, the looks between us now lingering, the space between us disappearing. Instead of just our foreheads touching during those more intimate moves, our noses were now nuzzling against each other with our lips centimeters apart. Every nerve ending in my body was like a livewire, shocking me where our skin touched. By the time the song came to an end, the vibe between us had completely shifted. I stepped away, laughing nervously, “Well, that one went much better. I think we have a pretty good grasp on it. Do you wanna call it a night?” I need to get away from him. Now. Or I’m gonna lose what little control I have.

Dieter rubbed at the back of his neck as he peered up at me through his lashes, the corner of his lip twitched upward before he spoke, “I dunno, I think maybe we should go through it one or two more times…at least. If you’re feeling up to it…of course.” I could feel his chocolate eyes boring into me as he fought a smile. What the fuck is this? Why does he keep looking at me like that? His words from a few days ago popped into my head, “I’ll behave unless I’m told to do otherwise.”

Surely, he’s not…no. Is he? I felt like he was trying to get a read on where I was with things. Did he feel the shift too? My intuition was telling me that if we kept rehearsing right now, something was going to happen. This whole situation we had been thrust into was setting us up for this and I was falling for it. My gut told me he was too. My head was telling me to call it a night, but my traitorous lady bits were throbbing at the possibility of seeing what else Dieter Bravo could do with those loose hips of his. I suddenly felt like everything was hinging on my response. I must have taken longer than I realized to answer him, because Dieter’s brows furrowed as my name slipped out between his lips. My attention snapped back to him as he asked, “Is everything ok?”

My eyes widened, meeting his, “Yeah, sorry. I was thinking through the ending. I’m not sure it feels right.”

He arched a brow as the smirk returned, “I agree, it’s almost sort of… anticlimactic?”

I nodded, “Yeah…I agree.” Maybe with a new focus, the tension might dissipate some. “Are you good to do another lift?” I asked.

He shrugged, his eyes were almost smoldering now, “I’m good with whatever you wanna do.”

I felt like his words had a double meaning behind them. I tried my best to ignore my thoughts as I worked through the moves in my head, “Alright, I’m not sure how to explain this…ummm…as I turn, allow me to complete the turn into your side while lifting me up onto your hip. You’re gonna bend your leg slightly for me to rest on as you dip me backward, run your hand down my side then snap me up for the final pose.”

He stood staring at me with a confused look etched on his face. I sighed, “Ok, hold on.” I moved to pick up my phone, closing my eyes for a minute to think where I had seen that move before. I somehow managed to pull it out of the recesses of my mind and quickly found it on YouTube to show him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched, then nodded, “Yeah, I like that better.”

We tried it several times and managed to get it down after some struggles and laughter. Then we decided to go through the whole routine again with the new ending. The tension between us quickly returned - pretty much picking up where it left off. Especially when we hit the first lift. From my position on the floor, I raised my legs and hooked them over the tops of his thighs. He slowly lifted me off the ground as I rolled my torso upward and hooked my hands around his neck pulling his face up to meet mine. Our lips grazed against each other this time. The position that we found ourselves in felt more intimate than it ever had as he did a full turn, and I released the hold my legs had around his waist to plant my feet on the ground. We stayed in the embrace a few beats longer than we should have but kept going after finally breaking apart.

Our lips continued to lightly brush against each other throughout the rest of the routine. This was new. We had never gotten this close and intimate during a dance. It was causing blood to rush to my aching core. There was no way we could keep this up or else I was going to burst into flames. I could feel my control slipping away with each passing second.

By the time we reached the end with the final lift I was hanging on by a thread. When I turned and he lifted me onto his hip for the dip, he didn’t just run his hand down my side. He started by caressing my neck, skimmed the center of my breasts, then down my side to pull me upward toward his face. Instead of just resting my hand on the back of his neck, it seemed to have a mind of its own as it moved upward and fisted in the curls at the nape. I could feel his heated breath rush out against my lips as he closed his eyes from the sensation, a quiet whimper escaping his throat before nuzzling his nose with mine. He pulled back slightly, allowing his gaze to settle on me. He looked dazed as I continued to slowly pull away to stand. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my fingertips until they were out of his reach.

I turned away, brushing my hair back off my face and inhaling deeply in an attempt to compose myself. Fuck, I’ve never felt anything this intense before. It was really messing with my head. He was like a magnet pulling me in. There was no way I could fight this for seven more weeks. The pull was too strong. If it didn’t happen now, it was going to eventually unless something changed.

His voice broke through my thoughts, “One more time?” He asked. His voice sounded off. Smoother and deeper somehow. Like honey and sex. I turned to look at him, his eyes widening slightly, “Or, we can call it a night…if you prefer.” He could sense my reluctance and was giving me an out. Deep down I knew he was testing me. I could sense that he wanted it just as badly as I did.

I shook my head, “N-No…one more time should do it. Our timing was still a little off. I think we can get it right this time.”

One corner of his lips tugged upward. Did I have a double meaning behind my words now? Fuck. What am I doing? We got into position as I started the music again. The last of the frayed threads that had been holding us back were finally pulling apart. After the first turn, he placed his hands on my hips and pulled my back tightly against his front. I could feel every inch of his broad body pressed against me, including the stiffness in his pants. There was no polite space there this time as I reached up behind me with my right hand to the back of his neck, grasping at his curls. His fingertips slid down the underside of my arm as his lips lowered to brush against the shell of my ear, then trailed down my neck before transitioning to the next move. I could still feel the blazing path of his mouth on my skin, even after it was gone.

Our touches continued to intensify as we got to the first lift. This is when the threads finally snapped. After I rolled my torso upright and pulled his face upward to meet mine, he stopped moving. His breathing was noticeably shallower as I cupped his cheeks and stared into his darkened eyes. Slowly leaning in further, and without thinking, I placed the lightest of kisses on his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze again. His eyes searched my face as a conflicted expression overtook his features. I loosened the grip my legs had around his waist so he could set me down, which he did, but his hands kept me pulled snugly against his chest as they caressed over the bare skin of my lower back.

He pressed his forehead against mine, I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but he was holding back. His words popped into my head again, “I’ll behave unless I’m told to do otherwise.” I realized then, he’s following my lead in this dance. I pressed my lips against his again, his response was tentative and gentle. Almost like he was afraid he might scare me away if he moved too quickly. My hands slid from his cheeks into his hair, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. His lips parted, allowing me entrance. It was soft and sensual the way he massaged my tongue with his. God, he’s such a good kisser. I had never really thought that about anyone in the past, now I realized why. There was an art to it, and Dieter Bravo had mastered it.

My thighs clenched together, the throb at my center was now unbearable. I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew there was no fighting it at this point as my hands dropped down to the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. The soft fabric was replaced by my fingers splayed across his bare chest. He leaned in and kissed me briefly before pausing and placing his hands on either side of my neck with his thumbs resting on my chin, gently stroking my face. He pulled back, his intense eyes locking with mine. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

I nodded in response, but then he continued, “If we do this…it changes everything. I-I can’t go back to the way things were before. It’s all or nothing for me.” He was deadly serious as his eyes bore into me, unblinking as he searched mine. His intensity took me by surprise, and only seemed to spur me on. I let out a shaky breath, his vehemence causing my heart to pound in my ears. I nodded again, “I’m sure.”

He must have found what he was looking for as his eyes danced around my face, because it was like a dam had broken when his lips finally crashed against mine. He was suddenly full of passion and need. His hands roamed over the length of my body as he walked us backward toward the open door to go inside. Once we passed the threshold, he turned, pressing me up against the curtain covered floor-to-ceiling window. My leg hooked around his hip as he rutted against my center, nearly causing me to come undone from the contact.

His lips made their way down my neck, but he still seemed hesitant in touching me where I wanted him to. I grabbed his hands and brought them to my breast, encouraging him to have his way with me. He gave them a tentative squeeze, before groaning against my jaw. One of my hands fisted in the top of his hair as the other moved to the front zipper on my bra, “It’s ok to touch me, Dieter. I want you to…need you to…please.” I begged through heavy pants.

He whimpered against my skin as I pulled the zipper down, his hands immediately reaching for and massaging at the soft exposed flesh as I managed to slide the bra off down my arms. He raised his head, his tongue quickly plunged into my mouth as one of his hands began to move downward at a painfully slow pace until he was finally rubbing against the spot that I wanted him most. It was my turn to whimper into his mouth now. It wasn’t enough, I wanted more. My hips bucked against his palm. He seemed to understand, moving to dip his hand into the front of my leggings, his digits sliding over my slick folds, expertly caressing and teasing me. I quickly turned into a quivering mess as he licked and sucked on my neck and worked me over with his thick fingers.

He suddenly withdrew his hand, now sliding both down my sides and hooking his fingers under the band of my leggings, he paused quietly whispering into my ear, “Is this ok?” I let out a breathy “yes” as he continued to pepper me with kisses, slowly moving down my body with his mouth as he removed the rest of my clothing, completely exposing me. I was burning for him. I couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before. The hungry look in his eyes as he sucked a nipple into his mouth only exacerbated the feeling.

Dieter sank to his knees, lifting my left leg over his shoulder as he pulled away from my breast with a pop. He turned his attention to kissing and nibbling at my inner thigh, dragging his patchy stubble against my skin as his lips made a fiery path to the apex. His teasing touches were maddening. I knew I wasn’t going to last long. When he finally moved to my folds, licking up the center with the flat of his tongue, my legs nearly gave out. He hummed against me before latching on to the sensitive and throbbing bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking his tongue in tandem as his hands gripped my ass and held me firmly against his mouth. I doubled over almost immediately, my hands fisting in his hair for balance. Fucking hell, how did he do that? The loud moan that escaped my lips was almost embarrassing. I somehow managed to get myself upright and grabbed onto the door facing to my left for support. I was already covered in sweat, breathing heavily, and thighs shaking from the building release. Another quick jolt of pleasure ran through me, nearly causing me to double forward again. A breathy, “What the fuck!?!?” escaped my lips. I’d never felt anything like this before.

I could feel the deep rumble of his chuckle as he broke away with another pop, looking up at me through his lashes, “Everything ok, sweetheart?”

My eyes narrowed at the pet name. I could tell he was using that word purposefully. His defiance only further stimulated my arousal. “I don’t think I told you to stop.”

That cocky smirk was back again, “Yes, ma’am.”

He dove back in, more enthusiastic than before - groaning out profane sounds as he worked. I was fairly certain he was sucking my soul out through my cunt. His mouth should be considered the eighth wonder of the world. He should be worshiped. My debauched thoughts were already sending me to hell, so why not add the worship of a false god to the list?

I couldn’t help grinding and arching into him, it felt so good it was almost painful. My release hit out of nowhere, my vision going dark before filling with bursts of color behind my eyelids. My ears began ringing, muffling all sound. The primal cry that came from deep within my chest shocked me. My whole body was shaking to the point that I could hardly stand. I could feel Dieter in front of me now, nuzzling his slick covered nose against mine with his hands around my waist, holding me tightly against him for support.

I snorted out a breathless laugh, “I think I just blacked out for a minute.”

I could feel him laughing against my throat. “Somebody was wound up tight,” he said between kisses. I knotted his hair in my hand and tilted his face upward to meet my gaze, “I don’t think I’ve ever come that fast, or hard…”

He smirked. “You can wipe that smug look off your face,” I added through a chuckle.

He shrugged as a cheesy grin spread across his face, “You know Kit Kats are my favorite thing to eat. What did you expect?”

I snorted, “You DID NOT just say that.”

He laughed loudly, “I totally did, and I’ll never not say it again. It’s too good.”

I smiled against his lips before pulling him in for a deep kiss, tasting the after effects of his handiwork. I wasn’t done with him yet. My right hand slid down through the light smattering of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen, then down the front of his gym shorts, rubbing his hard length. He melted into me as I swallowed his moans, pushing his shorts and boxer briefs down, exposing him to me. His size was as I suspected, girthy and above average in length, but not in a ridiculous way. He was perfect and I was aching to feel him. I NEEDED to feel him. I hooked my leg around his hip, encouraging him to rub against my slick center. He paused suddenly, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He raised his head to look at me with a grimace, “I…uhhh…I don’t have any condoms. I wasn’t expecting…this.”

His rounded brown eyes were full of regret and maybe a little embarrassment at his admission. God, he’s perfect. I gave him a small smile, “I think I would’ve had more questions if you did have them.” He chuckled as I cupped his cheek, “It’s fine. I got the all clear and I’m on birth control…I trust you.”

His brows arched upwards as he shook his head, “I haven’t…with anyone. I swear”

I smiled against his lips, “I know…I told you, I trust you.”

He huffed out a sigh of relief, kissing me once more as he grabbed my ass and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked toward the bedroom. He continued kissing me as he sank to his knees on the edge of the bed, managing to make it up far enough to lay me back on the pillows. He hovered above me on his elbows, fingertips in my hair as he kissed gently on my forehead, my nose, then my lips. He stared down at me for a moment, his eyes full of emotion, “I just want you to know that…with you…this does mean something to me.” I could feel my heart beating out of my chest from his admission. I kissed him back, deeply, before mummering a quiet “I know” against his plump bottom lip.

He gave me a soft smile, then sat up on his knees, his hands gently rubbing and massaging down my torso as he moved. His eyes followed their path, taking in every inch of my flesh. Seeing him like this, completely bare before me as he began stroking himself between my thighs, was easily the most erotic sight I had ever laid eyes on. His shoulders somehow looked broader from this angle, the muscles in his chest and arm flexed as he slowly slid his hand up and down his length. His messy curls were now hanging down over his lustful gaze, adding to his sexiness.

The way he looked at me was nothing short of obscene as he reached to rub at my inner thigh with his free hand, gently grazing his fingertips down to my ankle, then lifting my foot to rest on his shoulder. His hand continued to rub from the tips of my toes down my calf as he nuzzled his cheek against the inside of my foot. The softness of his touch juxtaposed with the scratchiness of his beard in such a sensitive spot caused a surge of electricity to course through my veins.

My cunt was suddenly aching to be touched. I couldn’t wait any longer. I surprised myself when my right hand found its way down to my folds to rub at the small bundle of nerves. My fingers briefly dipped down to collect some of the slick to smear around before continuing in my endeavor. My left hand moved to squeeze my breast. I was already feeling that familiar tingling sensation again with very little effort. Something about Dieter made me feel brazen and uninhibited unlike ever before. I never felt safe enough to be like this with Alec. I never felt any of this with Alec.

Dieter’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me arch into my hands. His eyes flicking up from the apex of my thighs to meet my gaze ever so often to watch me, watching him. Neither of us said a word, our connection allowing us to silently communicate our feelings and needs as we shared this moment of mutual self-pleasure.

His hand moved to caress my ankle, his thumb pressing THAT spot again just below the ankle bone, causing jolts of pleasure to shoot through me. He tucked his chin, opening his mouth to graze his teeth against the spot his thumb had just vacated, causing a new prickling sensation to creep up to my aching core. I whimpered quietly at the feeling, his gaze meeting mine as he began to gently suck the area. His eyes shifted down to my center, now watching my fingers at work. I watched as his head dipped further, spit dripping from his mouth onto his cock as he continued to leisurely stroke himself, his thumb swiping over the sensitive tip as he moved. Something about his actions made me feel feral. It wasn’t a want anymore. I needed him.

Dieter must have sensed my growing need, suddenly lowering my leg and sliding his large hands around my hips. With a firm grip, he lifted them up off the mattress and notched himself at my entrance. I watched our reflections in the mirrored ceiling as he slowly sank in, stretching me around his length. The sight and feeling of him forced incoherent sounds from my lips. He let out a loud hiss through his teeth as he sunk in to the hilt. His eyes fluttered shut as his jaw went slack, his head briefly dropping back in ecstasy. The position he put me in had opened my hips up in a way they never had been during sex, allowing him in deeper, eliciting a pleasure I had never felt.

He leaned forward slightly, tucking one arm around my lower back, causing it to arch further, increasing the friction of his movements against my center. He set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips and thrusting upward in a way that hit all the right spots perfectly. His free hand slid up my abdomen to knead my breast and roll my nipples between his fingertips causing my skin to pebble all over. He let out a quiet moan at the way my body responded to his touch. I soon found myself fisting the sheets and coming undone again before he had even broken out into a sweat.

A satisfied smile slid across his face as I clenched down around him and groaned loudly with my release, “That’s it sweetheart, let it go.” His breathy voice was deeper and more husky than I had ever heard it. It was so fucking sexy. I wanted to tell him to stop calling me sweetheart, but deep down, it was only stoking the flames further. I think he knew it too, which is why he kept saying it.

He gently lowered my hips to the bed while I tried to catch my breath. He shifted to hover above me on his elbows, somehow managing to leave us joined through it all. His fingers worked to brush away the stray hairs that were sticking to my sweaty face, his lips trailing behind them. I caught his mouth with mine, kissing him deeply as my hands wandered over his body. He began moving again, tucking his knees under my thighs to slightly elevate my hips. I arched up into him as he hit just the right spot deep inside of me. The way he moved was causing the base of his cock to rub against my clit in a way that was already making my whole body quiver and shake toward another release as my legs tightened around his hips. One of his arms slid underneath my lower back, holding me snugly against his chest, further increasing the friction as he continued to massage my tongue with his.

All of his movements seemed to be calculated. Every touch and every angle were done with a single purpose - to give pleasure, not take it. He knew exactly what I needed and how to get me there. I didn’t have to tell him, because he was reading the cues. He was working my body in ways I never thought possible and satisfying every craving that I ever had that had gone unfulfilled. Yet, he was awakening a primal hunger that I didn’t think would ever be satiated.

He began to quicken the pace of his thrusts, which finally sent both of us over the edge together. The room filled with sounds of our heavy breathing and loud moans as he finally spilled into me. Our eyes remained locked on each other through our releases. It was intimate and unexpected, making my heart skip a few beats. He wasn’t afraid to show the vulnerable side of himself as he lost control - not holding back any of his soft whimpers. I found myself wanting to see it again and again.

Dieter nearly collapsed on top of me, burying his face in my neck as he worked to catch his breath. My fingers instinctively combed through his messy curls as I did the same. Eventually, he moved to kiss me again, nibbling on my chin as he pulled out with a groan to lay at my side. He was quiet for a few minutes, now seeming unsure of himself as he finally spoke up, “Do you want me to leave now?” His words came out almost in a whisper, sounding sad, like it was inevitable. He didn’t look my way, instead he stared toward the doorway as he waited for my response. I could see his expression in the mirrored ceiling. He looked sad, like he was fighting back his emotions.

I could feel my brows pinching together, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “Why would I want you to leave?” I asked.

His lips set into a tight line as he shrugged, “Because people usually don’t want me to stay…after.”

I shifted to lay on my side so that I was facing him. I placed my hand under his chin, turning his head so he was looking at me, “I never want you to leave me after…”

He stared up at me with his sad puppy eyes before turning his body to face mine, burying his face in my side and hugging my thighs against his chest. “Is this ok?” he asked against my bare skin. My fingers moved back to strum through his hair, “Of course it is. It always will be.”

I suddenly felt sad for him, wondering what had happened in his life that would make him ask those questions. I had the overwhelming urge to shower him in affection. I had a feeling he hadn’t gotten a lot of that, in recent years at least. Then again, I hadn’t really had that either.

I felt his hand rub up and down the back of my thigh, his head suddenly popped up to look at me, “Did you still wanna soak in the tub? I know the last few days have been tough on you. I don’t want you to be sore or anything. I can get it ready for you…if you want?”

I glanced at the clock, it was almost 11:30 PM. “I dunno, it’s getting late.”

Dieter kissed my hip, “If you wanna sleep in, I’ll go grab us some breakfast in the morning.”

I smiled, “You’re making that really hard to turn down, Bravo.”

He was massaging my hip now, with a small smile on his lips. It felt amazing.

“I wanna take care of you. Gotta keep these hips in working order,” he leaned down and kissed where he had just been rubbing as his hand slid down to grip my ass cheek.

He’s definitely an ass man. I laughed, “Ok, fine. You win, but only if you join me.”

He smiled against my skin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I stretched out on the bed, watching as he moved around the room to prepare the bath, still completely naked and confident. As he waited for it to fill, he gathered towels from the bathroom then added salts to the water, occasionally checking the temperature. Once it was halfway full, he stepped in and sat down, “Oooh fuck, this might be too hot.”

I laughed, “That means it’s perfect then.”

He shook his head, muttering out, “Nope. Nope. Nope.” Then he moved to adjust the temperature of the running water.

Once he settled against the backrest, I got up to join him, piling my hair up into a messy bun along the way. He spread his legs wide so I could sit between his thighs and lean against his chest. I scoffed, “Nope. It could be warmer.” I sat up to adjust the temperature again while he laughed. We were quiet until the tub was full. I reached to shut off the water then got comfortable against him. His thumbs moved to massage into my neck, then down the back side of my shoulders. After several minutes, the rest of his fingers joined in, digging into the top muscles. His motions elicited a quiet moan from me as my head dropped back to his chest. His fingers made their way to the front side, massaging around the base of my neck, then moved down the sides of my arms.

My eyes drifted closed, “Mmm, I wasn’t aware that a massage was part of this.”

Dieter’s lips brushed against my ear, “I told you, I wanna take care of you. That position I had you in can do a number on your neck and back.”

I sighed, “I’m not really sure what to do with this. I’m not used to aftercare.”

He scoffed, “That shouldn’t surprise me. I hope he was at least a decent lay.”

I laughed, “No. He wasn’t. He fucking sucked. I usually had to take care of things myself. He was a very selfish lover. Always wanting and taking. Half the time I just felt like his plaything to be used as he saw fit, then discarded when he was done. He typically didn’t stick around after either.”

Dieter nuzzled into my neck, “That’s a terrible feeling that I know all too well. I promise, I’ll never do that to you.”

I turned so that I could see his face, “I’ll never do it to you either…People would really ask you to leave after?”

He pursed his lips in thought, “Yeah, I mean…it was just hookups. It was never meant to be more than that. Either they asked me to leave, or they would leave without a word. It was better in a lot of ways…didn’t have to go through the awkward morning after thing. It’s just sort of what I’ve come to expect I guess.”

I turned away, now staring at the water, “Why did you do it?”

He sighed, squirming under me a little, “Ummm, that’s more complicated. Most of the time I was so coked out I’m not even sure if I knew what I was doing. Other times, it was an escape…to feel something else and nothing else at the same time…but there was never any connection there. It was just about forgetting my problems and having a fun time.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, suddenly worried that’s all this was to him. An escape. He must have sensed it because his arms tightened around me as he leaned his cheek against mine, “It’s not like that with you. Don’t worry. I told you…this means something to me. You’re making me feel things I didn’t know possible…want things I’ve never wanted because I was too afraid.”

His voice wavered, which took me by surprise. I turned to face him again, searching his sad eyes. “What were you afraid of?” I asked.

He reached to entwine his fingers with mine on his chest, his eyes turning glassy as he stared at them, “In simple terms…rejection, abandonment, pain, loss. I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being loved. There’s a lot to unpack there, and I don’t wanna do that tonight. I just wanna be with you.”

I smiled, releasing his hand and reaching to pull his face toward mine so I could look at him. We took each other in for a moment before he leaned down and captured my lips with his. I shifted to straddle his thighs as his arms snaked around me. We spent some time making out as our hands explored each other. It never progressed beyond that. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an intimate moment like this that didn’t turn sexual. It was actually kind of nice just being together. When we finally broke apart, Dieter buried his face in my chest, and hugged me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my fingers instinctively going to his fluffy curls. He sighed contentedly, “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

I chuckled, “I honestly can’t either…”

“You fought a good fight. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna give in or not,” he mumbled out against my neck.

I scoffed, “Excuse me? You didn’t know I was into you.”

I felt his rumbling laugh, “Oh I one hundred percent did.”

I tugged his hair to lean his head back so I could look at him, “Since when?”

He shrugged, “Since last week for sure.”

My head shook from side to side in disbelief, “And here I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it.”

He laughed, “Maybe for a little while, but no, not recently…I think the water is getting cold.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah it is.”

I slid back off his thighs, then he moved to stand and grab a towel. After helping me to my feet, he began drying me off. Once he was satisfied, he tucked the towel in around my torso, then gave my ass a squeeze as I stepped out of the tub. I squealed, reaching for his towel, then turned to return the favor of getting him dry.

As I rubbed the towel over his chest, I suddenly felt shy as I asked, “Are you gonna stay with me tonight?”

He smirked, “If you want me to…I mean, I was kinda planning on it…”

Relief flooded through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes as I spoke, “Good. I wasn’t sure…”

His fingers found their way to my chin and lifted it upward so that I was looking at him, “I’m gonna be wherever you are until you tell me to fuck off.” I couldn’t help laughing. He always had a way with words.

We didn’t even bother to get dressed before snuggling into bed, tangling our limbs together and making out like a couple of teenagers. I wanted to feel all of him as I drifted off to sleep and I made sure he knew it. He didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me once we finally settled down. It was the best night’s sleep I had had in a very long time, and I knew it was because of him.

Next: Week 5 (Part 4)

A/N: Are you all screaming right now? I'm screaming because FINALLY! Took them long enough, right? Could that build up have been any slower? Dieter was taking a chance when he asked to keep going...it was a rather delicate dance on his part. We will hear from him in Part 4, which I currently have no ETA on as I haven't started it yet. (I know, I'm SORRY!)

Poor Kat just couldn't catch a break in this chapter. Just when she was finally going to do something about her little ache, Dieter had to ruin it. He was literally driving her crazy in every way possible. 🤭

What do you think about Dieter's song choices? Was he trying to make a statement?

Can we talk about how much he wants to take care of her (and honestly enjoys it)? He's too damn cute.

Also, can we talk about the sex? Do you think he's about to give Kat some new experiences? If so, how open do you think she'll be to them?

We got some small revelations about Dieter's past. What are your thoughts on that? We have more to unpack there...

✨This chapter's video is a little different. It was made by two of the dance professionals from DWTS (who are married in real life). I love watching these two dance together because their chemistry is off the charts. They are dancing to the same song that Dieter and Kat will be dancing the Rumba too. Honestly, I think their version is better than the one from the actual music video. Give it a watch and enjoy!

Click HERE for the video.

✨THE LIFTS: I’ve included gifs for reference on the lifts. The first two gifs go together. I had to split them because tumblr has a ridiculous size limit.😒

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